LITTLE MASTERPIECES 



Little Masterpieces 

Edited by Bliss Perry 



V 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 

SELECTIONS FROM AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC 

ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN 

THE WHISTLE 

NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE 
THAT WOULD BE RICH 

MOTION FOR PRA 

SELECTED LE 




NEW YORK 4 
DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. 



TWO CQ^I* «tC£lVED 



. 5><\* 






3849 



Copyright, 1898, by 

DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. 



Acknowledgment is due Messrs. G. P. Putnam 's Sons 

for permission to use selections from the text of 

Pigelow's editio?i of Franklin 's Autobiography 



3*f/Z 



Introduction 



Introduction 



This volume of selections from the writings 
of Benjamin Franklin begins with a series of 
extracts from his ' ' Autobiography. ' ' The oc- 
casion and motive for the composition of this 
work are explained in its opening paragraph. 
It was begun in 1771. Franklin, at that time 
residing in England as the agent of the Ameri- 
can colonies, was enjoying a week's leisure at 
the country house of his friend Dr. Shipley, 
the Bishop of St. Asaph's. He was in his sixty- 
sixth year. The contrast between his present 
position of honor and influence and the narrow 
circumstances of his boyhood was striking, 
though the full force of Franklin's personality 
and his greatest services to his country were yet 
to be displayed. 

It was for the perusal of his own family, ap- 
parently, that the memoirs were first under- 
taken, and there is no evidence that at this time 
Franklin considered the question of their ulti- 
mate publication. The composition was inter- 
rupted after he had told the story of his life up 
to the period of his marriage. Thirteen years 
later, in 1784, while living in France, he re- 
sumed his task. The blank line on page 78 of 



Introduction 

the present volume indicates the beginning of 
the second portion, and its conclusion will be 
found on page 102. The third and final section 
of the memoirs was written in Philadelphia in 
1788, in the author's eighty-second year. 

He writes under date of October 24th, 1788, 
to his friend Benjamin Vaughan, who had seen 
and praised the first part of his manuscript : 
'* I am recovering from a long-continued gout, 
and am diligently employed in writing the His- 
tory of my Life, to the doing of which the per- 
suasions contained in your letter of January 
31st, 1783, have not a little contributed. I am 
now in the year 1756, just before I was sent to 
England. To shorten the work, as well as for 
other reasons, I omit all facts and transactions 
that may not have a tendency to benefit the 
young reader, by showing him from my exam- 
ple, and my success in emerging from poverty, 
and acquiring some degree of wealth, power, 
and reputation, the advantages of certain modes 
of conduct which I observed, and of avoiding 
the errors which were prejudicial to me. If a 
writer can judge properly of his own work, I 
fancy, on reading over what is already done, 
that the book will be found entertaining, inter- 
esting, and useful, more so than I expected 
when I began it." 

Entertaining, interesting, and useful the 
"Autobiography" surely is. The extracts 
chosen relate largely to Franklin's early life, 
and to the formation of his habits and charac- 



Introduction 

ter. His " Rules of Conduct," one of the most 
curious documents in the history of morals, is 
given entire. Franklin's activity as a citizen 
of Philadelphia is illustrated by two extracts 
entitled " Public Affairs" and " Civic Pride" — 
although the reader should remember that there 
are no headings or chapter divisions in the 
original. The account of his singular friendship 
with George Whitefield is reprinted in full, and 
there are two brief passages relating to the 
famous Franklin stove and to the Doctor's ex- 
periments with electricity. 

Of the literary value of the " Autobiography" 
but little need be said. Its ease and original- 
ity, its humor, its combination of shrewd worldli- 
ness and overflowing benevolence, have long 
since given it a place among the great auto- 
biographies. Franklin's own manuscript, it 
may be added, after surviving singular vicissi- 
tudes of fortune, was printed for the first time 
in 1868, under the editorship of Mr. John Bige- 
low. This text, differing in many points from 
the one originally published by William Tem- 
ple Franklin in 181 7, and preserving Franklin's 
occasionally inconsistent spelling, has been here 
reprinted by permission. 

The text of " Poor Richard's Almanac," like- 
wise, is believed to be an accurate reproduction 
of the edition of 1757, which threw into con- 
nected form the proverbial sayings that for 
many years had given spice to Franklin's an- 
nual " Almanacs." The motive that led him to 



Introduction 

the collection and publication of these curt, wise 
comments upon life and the world is described 
in the "Autobiography," in a passage here 
printed as an introductory note to the ' ' Al- 
manac." Franklin's account of the contem- 
porary influence of " Poor Richard" is no whit 
exaggerated. Mr. John T. Morse, jr., one ot 
Franklin's recent biographers, says : " ' Poor 
Richard ' was the revered and popular school- 
master of a young nation during its period of 
tutelage. His teachings are among the power- 
ful forces which have gone to shaping the hab- 
its of Americans. His terse and picturesque 
bits of the wisdom and the virtue of this world 
are familiar in our mouths to-day ; they mould- 
ed our great-grandparents and their children ; 
they have informed our popular traditions ; 
they still influence our actions, guide our ways 
of thinking, and establish our points of view, 
with the constant control of acquired habits 
which we little suspect. ' ' 

The shrewd wit that was the salt of the 
"Almanac" characterizes also Franklin's es- 
says and miscellaneous writings. They are 
models of an effective popular style that loses 
no dignity in becoming colloquial. Carelessly 
as Franklin often wrote, his acquaintance with 
the best English prose and a happy instinct 
that was quite his own kept him as far from 
affectation as from dulness. His story of " The 
Whistle" is perhaps the most famous of these 
compositions, but they are all delightful. 



Introduction 

Nothing could be more perfect of its kind 
than Franklin's speech in the Federal Conven- 
tion of 17S7, in favor of opening its daily ses- 
sions with prayer. It is decorous, eloquent, 
irreproachable. Yet it seems to have convinced 
but very few members of the Convention, and 
in truth Franklin's real attitude toward that 
other world whose assistance he then entreated 
is difficult to determine with any certainty. 
He was not " spiritually-minded" — as his friend 
Whitefield would have understood that phrase. 
Yet he sought virtue persistently, and in spite 
of early "errata" the printer's life was gov- 
erned by noble impulses and guided to worthy 
ends. One of the ablest men of his century, he 
was also one of the most useful. 

Readers of this little volume will miss the 
story of Franklin the patriot, the diplomatist, 
the statesman ; they will have merely a glimpse 
of the scientist ; but the temper of the man is 
revealed upon every page. It is betrayed in 
his casual letters : in the lines about " pruden- 
tial algebra" to Dr. Priestley ; in the familiar, 
" You are my enemy, and I am Yours," to his 
friend Strahan the printer ; in the admiring, 
generous sentences addressed to George Wash- 
ington ; in the account of his peaceful closing 
years written to his old companion, the Bishop 
of St. Asaph's. Franklin lived happily and died 
content, assured of the respect and gratitude of 
mankind. " Take one thing with another," he 
wrote to his sister, " and the world is a pretty 



Introduction 

good sort of a world, and it is our duty to make 
the best of it and be thankful." That is a 
more cheery philosophy than modern men of 
letters have uniformly possessed, yet it remains 
to be proved that pessimism is a valuable equip- 
ment for the pursuit of literature. We have 
had plenty of gloomy, stormy geniuses since 
Franklin's day, but we have had very few men 
who could write a better page of English prose. 

Bliss Perry. 



xn 



CONTENTS 




<* 




Editor's Introduction 


PAGE 

v 


Autobiography — Selections 
Early Life 
Settling Down 


i 
.76 


Rules of Conduct 


. 86 


Public Affairs 


. 102 


George Whitefield 
The Franklin Stove 


. 108 
. 115 


Civic Pride 


. 117 


Philosophical Experiments 


. 125 


Poor Richard's Almanac 


• 131 


Selected Essays 




Advice to a Young Tradesman 


. 153 


The Whistle 


. 156 


Necessary Hints to those that w 
rich 


ould be 

. 160 


Motion for Prayers 


. 162 


Letters 




To Dr. Priestley . 
To Mr. Strahan . 


. 167 
. 169 


To General Washington 
To Dr. Mather . 


. 170 
. 172 


To the Bishop of St. Asaph's . 


. 175 



Autobiography of Benjamin 
Franklin. 



Autobiography of Benjamin 
Franklin 

Early Life. 

Twyford, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, 1771. 
Dear Son : I have ever had pleasure in ob- 
taining any little anecdotes of my ancestors. 
You may remember the inquiries I made among 
the remains of my relations when you were 
with me in England, and the journey I under- 
took for that purpose. Imagining it may be 
equally agreeable to you to know the circum- 
stances of my life, many of which you are yet 
unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoy- 
ment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my 
present country retirement, I sit down to write 
them for you. To which I have besides some 
other inducements. Having emerged from the 
poverty and obscurity in which I was born and 
bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of 
reputation in the world, and having gone so 
far through life with a considerable share of 
felicity, the conducing means I made use of, 
which with the blessing of God so well suc- 
3 



Benjamin Franklin 

ceeded, my posterity may like to know, as 
they may find some of them suitable to their 
own situations, and therefore fit to be imi- 
tated. 

That felicity, when I reflected on it, has in- 
duced me sometimes to say, that were it offered 
to my choice, I should have no objection to a 
repetition of the same life from its beginning, 
only asking the advantages authors have in a 
second edition to correct some faults of the 
first. So I might, besides correcting the faults, 
change some sinister accidents and events of it 
for others more favorable. But though this 
were denied, I should still accept the offer. 
Since such a repetition is not to be expected, 
the next thing like living one's life over again 
seems to be a recollection of that life, and to 
make that recollection as durable as possible by 
putting it down in writing. 

Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination 
so natural in old men, to be talking of them- 
selves and their own past actions ; and I shall 
indulge it without being tiresome to others, 
who, through respect to age, might conceive 
themselves obliged to give me a hearing, since 
this may be read or not as any one pleases. 
And, lastly (I may as well confess it, since my 
denial of it will be believed by nobody), perhaps 
I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity. 
Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the intro- 
ductory words, " Without vanity, I may say," 
etc. , but some vain thing immediately followed. 
4 



Early Life 

Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever 
share they may have of it themselves ; but I 
give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it, 
being persuaded that it is often productive of 
good to the possessor, and to others that are 
within his sphere of action ; and therefore, in 
many cases, it would not be altogether absurd 
if a man were to thank God for his vanity 
among the other comforts of life. 

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire 
with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the 
mentioned happiness of my past life to His kind 
providence, which led me to the means I used 
and gave them success. My belief of this in- 
duces me to hope, though I must not presume, 
that the same goodness will still be exercised 
toward me, in continuing that happiness, or en- 
abling me to bear a fatal reverse, which I may 
experience as others have done ; the complex- 
ion of my future fortune being known to Him 
only in whose power it is to bless to us even 
our afflictions. 

The notes one of my uncles (who had the 
same kind of curiosity in collecting family an- 
ecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me 
with several particulars relating to our ances- 
tors. From these notes I learned that the fam- 
ily had lived in the same village, Ecton, in 
Northamptonshire, for three hundred years, 
and how much longer he knew not (perhaps 
from the time when the name of Franklin, that 
before was the name of an order of people, was 
5 



Benjamin Franklin 

assumed by them as a surname when others 
took surnames all over the kingdom), on a free- 
hold of about thirty acres, aided by the smith's 
business, which had continued in the family till 
his time, the eldest son being always bred to 
that business ; a custom which he and my 
father followed as to their eldest sons. When 
I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an 
account of their births, marriages, and burials 
from the year 1555 only, there being no regis- 
ters kept in that parish at any time preceding. 
By that register I perceived that I was the 
youngest son of the youngest son for five gener- 
ations back. My grandfather Thomas, who 
was born in 1598, lived at Ecton till he grew 
too old to follow business longer, when he went 
to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury, 
in Oxfordshire, with whom my father served 
an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died 
and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in 
1758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house 
at Ecton, and left it with the land to his only 
child, a daughter, who, with her husband, one 
Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, 
now lord of the manor there. My grandfather 
had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John, 
Benjamin, and Josiah. I will give you what 
account I can of them, at this distance from my 
papers, and if these are not lost in my absence, 
you will among them find many more particu- 
lars. 

Thomas was bred a smith under his father ; 
6 



Early Life 

but, being ingenious, and encouraged in learn- 
ing (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire 
Palmer, then the principal gentleman in that 
parish, he qualified himself for the business of 
scrivener ; became a considerable man in the 
county ; was a chief mover of all public-spirited 
undertakings for the county or town of North- 
ampton, and his own village, of which many 
instances were related of him ; and much taken 
notice of and patronized by the then Lord Hali- 
fax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style, just 
four years to a day before I was born. The ac- 
count we received of his life and character from 
some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck 
you as something extraordinary, from its sim- 
ilarity to what you knew of mine. " Had he 
died on the same day," you said, " one might 
have supposed a transmigration." 

John was bred a dyer, I believe, of woollens. 
Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an ap- 
prenticeship at London. He was an ingenious 
man. I remember him well, for when I was a 
boy he came over to my father in Boston, and 
lived in the house with us some years. He 
lived to a great age. His grandson, Samuel 
Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left behind 
him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own po- 
etry, consisting of little occasional pieces ad- 
dressed to his friends and relations. He had 
formed a short-hand of his own, which he 
taught me, but, never practising it, I have now 
forgot it. I was named after this uncle, there 
7 



Benjamin Franklin 

being a particular affection between him and 
my father. He was very pious, a great attend- 
er of sermons of the best preachers, which he 
took down in his short-hand, and had with him 
many volumes of them. He was also much of 
a politician ; too much, perhaps, for his station. 
There fell lately into my hands, in London, a 
collection he had made of all the principal 
pamphlets relating to public affairs, from 1641 
to 171 7 ; many of the volumes are wanting as 
appears by the numbering, but there still re- 
main eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four 
in quarto and octavo. A dealer in old books 
met with them, and knowing me by my some- 
times buying of him, he brought them to me. 
It seems my uncle must have left them here 
when he went to America, which was above 
fifty years since. There are many of his notes 
in the margins. 

This obscure family of ours was early in 
the Reformation, and continued Protestants 
through the reign of Queen Mary, when they 
were sometimes in danger of trouble on account 
of their zeal against popery. They had got an 
English Bible, and to conceal and secure it, it 
was fastened open with tapes under and within 
the cover of a joint-stool. When my great- 
great-grandfather read it to his family, he 
turned up the joint-stool upon his knees, turn- 
ing over the leaves then under the tapes. One 
of the children stood at the door to give notice 
if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an 



Early Life 



officer of the spiritual court. In that case the 
stool was turned down again upon its feet, 
when the Bible remained concealed under it as 
before. This anecdote I had from my uncle 
Benjamin. The family continued all of the 
Church of England till about the end of Charles 
the Second's reign, when some of the ministers 
that had been outed for non-conformity holding 
conventicles in Northamptonshire, Benjamin 
and Josiah adhered to them, and so continued 
all their lives : the rest of the family remained 
with the Episcopal Church. 

Josiah, my father, married young, and car- 
ried his wife with three children into New Eng- 
land, about 1682. The conventicles having 
been forbidden by law, and frequently dis- 
turbed, induced some considerable men of his 
acquaintance to remove to that country, and he 
was prevailed with to accompany them thither, 
where they expected to enjoy their mode of re- 
ligion with freedom. By the same wife he had 
four children more born there, and by a second 
wife ten more, in all seventeen ; of which I re- 
member thirteen sitting at one time at Instable, 
who all grew up to be men and women, and 
married ; I was the youngest son, and the 
youngest child but two, and was born in Bos- 
ton, New England. My mother, the second 
wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter 
Folger, one of the first settlers of New Eng- 
land, of whom honorable mention is made by 
Cotton Mather, in his church history of that 
9 



Benjamin Franklin 

country, entitled " Magnalia Christi Ameri- 
cana," as " a goodly, learned Englishman" 
if I remember the words rightly. I have heard 
that he wrote sundry small occasional pieces, 
but only one of them was printed, which I saw 
now many years since. It was written in 1675, 
in the home-spun verse of that time and peo- 
ple, and addressed to those then concerned in 
the government there. It was in favor of lib- 
erty of conscience, and in behalf of the Bap- 
tists, Quakers, and other sectaries that had been 
under persecution, ascribing the Indian wars, 
and other distresses that had befallen the coun- 
try, to that persecution, as so many judgments 
of God to punish so heinous an offense, and ex- 
horting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. 
The whole appeared to me as written with a 
good deal of decent plainness and manly free- 
dom. The six concluding lines I remember, 
though I have forgotten the two first of the 
stanza ; but the purport of them was, that his 
censures proceeded from good-will, and, there- 
fore, he would be known to be the author. 

11 Because to be a libeller (says he) 

I hate it with my heart ; 
From Sherburne town, where now I dwell, 

My name I do put here ; 
Without offense your real friend, 

It is Peter Folgier." 

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to 
different trades. I was put to the grammar- 
school at eight years of age, my father intend- 
10 



Early Life 

ing to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the 
service of the Church. My early readiness in 
learning to read (which must have been very 
early, as I do not remember when I could not 
read), and the opinion of all his friends, that I 
should certainly make a good scholar, encour- 
aged him in this purpose of his. My uncle 
Benjamin, too, approved of it, and proposed to 
give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons, 
I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would, 
learn his character. I continued, however, at 
the grammar-school not quite one year, though 
in that time I had risen gradually from the 
middle of the class of that year to be the head 
of it, and farther was removed into the next 
class above it, in order to go with that into the 
third at the end of the year. But my father in 
the meantime, from a view of the expense of a 
college education, which having so large a fam- 
ily he could not well afford, and the mean living 
many so educated were afterwards able to ob- 
tain — reasons that he gave to his friends in my 
hearing, — altered his first intention, took me 
from the grammar-school, and sent me to a 
school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a 
then famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very- 
successful in his profession generally, and that, 
by mild, encouraging methods. Under him I 
acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed 
in the arithmetic, and made no progress in it. 
At ten years old I was taken home to assist my 
father in his business, which was that of a tal- 
ii 



Benjamin Franklin 

low-chandler and soap-boiler, a business he was 
not bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in 
New England, and on finding his dying trade 
would not maintain his family, being in little 
request. Accordingly, I was employed in cut- 
ting wick for the candles, filling the dipping 
mold and the molds for cast candles, attending 
the shop, going of errands, etc. 

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclina- 
tion for the sea, but my father declared against 
it ; however, living near the water, I was much 
in and about it, learnt early to swim well and 
to manage boats ; and when in a boat or canoe 
with other boys I was commonly allowed to 
govern, especially in any case of difficulty ; and 
upon other occasions I was generally a leader 
among the boys, and sometimes led them into 
scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, 
as it shows an early projecting public spirit, 
though not then justly conducted. 

There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of 
the mill-pond, on the edge of which, at high 
water, we used to stand to fish for minnows. 
By much trampling we had made it a mere 
quagmire. My proposal was to build a wharf 
there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my 
comrades a large heap of stones which were in- 
tended for a new house near the marsh, and 
which would very well suit our purpose. Ac- 
cordingly, in the evening, when the workmen 
were gone, I assembled a number of my play- 
fellows, and working with them diligently like 

12 



Early Life 

so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a 
stone, we brought them all away and built our 
little wharf. The next morning the workmen 
were surprised at missing the stones, which 
were found in our wharf. Inquiry was made 
after the removers ; we were discovered and 
complained of ; several of us were corrected by 
our fathers ; and, though I pleaded the useful- 
ness of the work, mine convinced me that noth- 
ing was useful which was not honest. 

I think you may like to know something of 
his person and character. He had an excellent 
constitution of body, was of middle stature, 
but well set, and very strong ; he was ingen- 
ious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in 
music, and had a clear, pleasing voice, so that 
when he played psalm tunes on his violin and 
sung withal, as he sometimes did in an evening 
after the business of the day was over, it was 
extremely agreeable to hear. He had a me- 
chanical genius, too, and on occasion was very 
handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools ; 
but his great excellence lay in a sound under- 
standing and solid judgment in prudential mat- 
ters, both in private and publick affairs. In 
the latter, indeed, he was never employed, the 
numerous family he had to educate and the 
straitness of his circumstances keeping him 
close to his trade ; but I remember well his 
being frequently visited by leading people, who 
consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the 
i-own or of the church he belonged to, and 
13 



Benjamin Franklin 

showed a good deal of respect for his judgment 
and advice ; he was also much consulted by 
private persons about their affairs when any 
difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an 
arbitrator between contending parties. At his 
table he liked to have as often as he could some 
sensible friend or neighbor to converse with, 
and always took care to start some ingenious or 
useful topic for discourse, which might tend to 
improve the minds of his children. By this 
means he turned our attention to what was 
good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life, 
and little or no notice was ever taken of what 
related to the victuals on the table, whether it 
was well or ill dressed, in or out of season, of 
good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this 
or that other thing of the kind, so that I was 
bro't up in such a perfect inattention to those 
matters as to be quite indifferent what kind of 
food was set before me, and so unobservant of 
it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce 
tell a few hours after dinner what I dined upon. 
This has been a convenience to me in travel- 
ling, where my companions have been some- 
times very unhappy for want of a suitable grati- 
fication of their more delicate, because better 
instructed, tastes and appetites. 

My mother had likewise an excellent consti- 
tution ; she suckled all her ten children. I 
never knew either my father or mother to have 
any sickness but that of which they died, he at 
89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried. 
14 



Early Life 

together at Boston, where I some years since 
placed a marble over their grave, with this in- 
scription : 

Josiah Franklin, 

and 

Abiah his wife, 

lie here interred. 

They lived lovingly together in wedlock 

fifty-five years. 

Without an estate, or any gainful employment, 

By constant labor and industry, 

with God's blessing, 
They maintained a large family 

comfortably, 

and brought up thirteen children 

and seven grandchildren 

reputably. 

From this instance, reader, 

Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling, 

And distrust not Providence. 

He was a pious and prudent man ; 

She, a discreet and virtuous woman. 

Their youngest son, 

In filial regard to their memory, 

Places this stone. 
J. F. born 1655, died 1744, iEtat 89. 
A. F. born 1667, died 1752, 85. 

By my rambling digressions I perceive my- 
self to be grown old. I us'd to write more 
methodically. But one does not dress for 
private company as for a public ball. 'T is 
perhaps only negligence. 

To return : I continued thus employed in my 
father's business for two years, that is, till I 
was twelve years old ; and my brother John, 
who was bred to that business, having left my 
father, married, and set up for himself at Rhode 
Island, there was all appearance that I was 
destined to supply his place, and become a tal- 
low-chandler. But my dislike to the trade con- 
tinuing, my father was under apprehensions 
15 



Benjamin Franklin 

that if he did not find one for me more agree- 
able, I should break away and get to sea, as 
his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation. 
He therefore sometimes took me to walk with 
him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, 
braziers, etc., at their work, that he might ob- 
serve my inclination, and endeavor to fix it on 
some trade or other on land. It has ever since 
been a pleasure to me to see good workmen 
handle their tools ; and it has been useful to 
me, having learnt so much by it as to be able 
to do little jobs myself in my house when a 
workman could not readily be got, and to con- 
struct little machines for my experiments, while 
the intention of making the experiment was 
fresh and warm in my mind. My father at last 
fixed upon the cutler's trade, and my uncle 
Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that 
business in London, being about that time 
established in Boston, I was sent to be with 
him some time on liking. But his expectations 
of a fee with me displeasing my father, I was 
taken home again. 

From a child I was fond of reading, and all 
the little money that came into my hands was 
ever laid out in books. Pleased with the Pil- 
grim's Progress, my first collection was of John 
Bunyan's works in separate little volumes. I 
afterward sold them to enable me to buy 
R. Burton's Historical Collections ; they were 
small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40 or 50 in 
all. My father's little library consisted chiefly 
16 



Early Life 

of books in polemic divinity, most of which I 
read, and have since often regretted that, at a 
time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, 
more proper books had not fallen in my way, 
since it was now resolved I should not be a 
clergyman. Plutarch's Lives there was in 
which I read abundantly, and I still think that 
time spent to great advantage. There was 
also a book of De Foe's, called an Essay on 
Projects, and another of Dr. Mather's, called 
Essays to do Good, which perhaps gave me a 
turn of thinking that had an influence on some 
of the principal future events of my life. 

This bookish inclination at length determined 
my father to make me a printer, though he had 
already one son (James) of that profession. In 
17 1 7 my brother James returned from England 
with a press and letters to set up his business 
in Boston. I liked it much better than that of 
my father, but still had a hankering for the 
sea. To prevent the apprehended effect of such 
an inclination, my father was impatient to have 
me bound to my brother. I stood out some 
time, but at last was persuaded and signed the 
indentures when I was yet but twelve years 
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was 
twenty-one years of age, only I was to be 
allowed journeyman's wages during the last 
year. In a little time I made great proficiency 
in the business, and became a useful hand to 
my brother. I now had access to better books. 
An acquaintance with the apprentices of book- 



Benjamin Franklin 

sellers enabled me sometimes to borrow a small 
one, which I was careful to return soon and 
clean. Often I sat up in my room reading the 
greatest part of the night, when the book was 
borrowed in the evening and to be returned 
early in the morning, lest it should be missed 
or wanted. 

And after some time an ingenious trades- 
man, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a pretty 
collection of books, and who frequented our 
printing-house, took notice of me, invited me 
to his library, and very kindly lent me such 
books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy 
to poetry, and made some little pieces ; my 
brother, thinking it might turn to account, en- 
couraged me, and put me on composing occa- 
sional ballads. One was calied " The Light- 
house Tragedy," contained an account of the 
drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his two 
daughters : the other was a sailor's song, on 
the taking of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate. 
They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street- 
ballad style ; and when they were printed he 
sent me about the town to sell them. The first 
sold wonderfully, the event being recent, hav- 
ing made a great noise. This flattered my 
vanity ; but my father discouraged me by ridi- 
culing my performances, and telling me verse- 
makers were generally beggars. So I escaped 
being a poet, most probably a very bad one ; 
but as prose writing has been of great use to 
me in the course of my life, and was a principal 
18 



Early Life 

means of my advancement, I shall tell you 
how, in such a situation, I acquired what little 
ability I have in that way. 

There was another bookish lad in the town,, 
John Collins by name, with whom I was inti- 
mately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, 
and very fond we were of argument, and very 
desirous of confuting one another, which dis- 
putatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a 
very bad habit, making people often extremely 
disagreeable in company by the contradiction 
that is necessary to bring it into practice ; and 
thence, besides souring and spoiling the con- 
versation, is productive of disgusts and, per- 
haps, enmities where you may have occasion for 
friendship. I had caught it by reading my 
father's books of dispute about religion. Per- 
sons of good sense, I have since observed, sel- 
dom fall into it, except lawyers, university men, 
and men of all sorts that have been bred at. 
Edinborough. 

A question was once, somehow or other,, 
started between Collins and me, of the pro- 
priety of educating the female sex in learning, 
and their abilities for study. He was of opin- 
ion that it was improper, and that they were 
naturally unequal to it. I took the contrary 
side, perhaps a little for dispute's sake. He 
was naturally more eloquent, had a ready 
plenty of words ; and sometimes, as I thought, 
bore me down more by his fluency than by the 
strength of his reasons. As we parted without 
19 



Benjamin Franklin 

settling the point, and were not to see one an- 
other again for some time, I sat down to put 
my arguments in writing, which I copied fair 
and sent to him. He answered, and I replied. 
Three or four letters of a side had passed, when 
my father happened to find my papers and read 
them. Without entering into the discussion, 
he took occasion to talk to me about the manner 
of my writing ; observed that, though I had 
the advantage of my antagonist in correct spell- 
ing and pointing (which I ow'd to the printing- 
house), I fell far short in elegance of expression, 
in method and in perspicuity, of which he con- 
vinced me by several instances. I saw the jus- 
tice of his remarks and thence grew more atten- 
tive to the manner in writing, and determined 
to endeavor at improvement. 

About this time I met with an odd volume of 
the Spectator. It was the third. I had never 
"before seen any of them. I bought it, read it 
over and over, and was much delighted with 
it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, 
if possible, to imitate it. With this view I took 
some of the papers, and, making short hints of 
the sentiment in each sentence, laid them by a 
few days, and then, without looking at the 
book, try'd to compleat the papers again, by 
expressing each hinted sentiment at length, 
and as fully as it had been expressed before, in 
any suitable words that should come to hand. 
Then I compared my Spectator with the orig- 
inal, discovered some of my faults, and cor- 
20 



Early Life 



rected them. But I found I wanted a stock of 
words, or a readiness in recollecting and using 
them, which I thought I should have acquired 
before that time if I had gone on making 
verses ; since the continual occasion for words 
of the same import, but of different length, to 
suit the measure, or of different sound for the 
rhyme, would have laid me under a constant 
necessity of searching for variety, and also have 
tended to fix that variety in my mind, and 
make me master of it. Therefore I took some 
of the tales and turned them into verse ; and, 
after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten 
the prose, turned them back again. I also 
sometimes jumbled my collections of hints into 
confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to 
reduce them into the best order, before I began 
to form the full sentences and compleat the 
paper. This was to teach me method in the 
arrangement of thoughts. By comparing my 
work afterwards with the original, I discovered 
many faults and amended them ; but I some- 
times had the pleasure of fancying that, in cer- 
tain particulars of small import, I had been 
lucky enough to improve the method or the 
language, and this encouraged me to think I 
might possibly in time come to be a tolerable 
English writer, of which I was extreamly am- 
bitious. My time for these exercises and for 
reading was at night, after work or before it 
began in the morning, or on Sundays, when 
I contrived to be in the printing-house alone, 
21 



Benjamin Franklin 

evading as much as I could the common at- 
tendance on public worship which my father 
used to exact of me when I was under his care, 
and which indeed I still thought a duty, though 
I could not, as it seemed to me, aflord time to 
practise it. 

When about 16 years of age I happened to 
meet with a book, written by one Tryon, rec- 
ommending a vegetable diet. I determined to 
go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried, 
did not keep house, but boarded himself and 
his apprentices in another family. My refusing 
to eat flesh occasioned an inconveniency, and 
I was frequently chid for my singularity. I 
made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner 
of preparing some of his dishes, such as boiling 
potatoes or rice, making hasty pudding, and a 
few others, and then proposed to my brother, 
that if he would give me, weekly, half the 
money he paid for my board, I would board 
myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I pres- 
ently found that I could save half what he paid 
me. This was an additional fund for buying 
books. But I had another advantage in it. 
My brother and the rest going from the print 
ing-house to their meals, I remained there alone, 
and, despatching presently my light repast, 
which often was no more than a biscuit or a 
slice of bread, a handful of raisins or a tart 
from the pastry-cook's, and a glass of water, 
had the rest of the time till their return for 
study, in which I made the greater progress, 
22 



Early Life 

from that greater clearness of head and quicker 
apprehension which usually attend temperance 
in eating and drinking. 

And now it was that, being on some occasion 
made asham'd of my ignorance in figures, 
which I had twice failed in learning when at 
school, I took Cocker's book of Arithmetick, 
and went through the whole by myself with 
great ease. I also read Seller's and Shermy's 
books of Navigation, and became acquainted 
with the little geometry they contain ; but never 
proceeded far in that science. And I read 
about this time Locke " On Human Under- 
standing," and the "Art of Thinking," by 
Messrs. du Port Royal. 

While I was intent on improving my lan- 
guage, I met with an English grammar (I think 
it was Greenwood's), at the end of which there 
were two little sketches of the arts of rhetoric 
and logic, the latter finishing with a specimen 
of a dispute in the Socratic method ; and soon 
after I procur'd Xenophon's " Memorable 
Things of Socrates," wherein there are many 
instances of the same method. I was charm' d 
with it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradic- 
tion and positive argumentation, and put on 
the humble inquirer and doubter. And being 
then, from reading Shaftesbury and Collins, 
become a real doubter in many points of our 
religious doctrine, I found this method safest 
for myself and very embarrassing to those 
against whom I used it ; therefore I took a de- 
23 



Benjamin Franklin 

light in it, practis'd it continually, and grew 
very artful and expert in drawing people, even 
of superior knowledge, into concessions, the 
consequences of which they did not foresee, 
entangling them in difficulties out of which 
they could not extricate themselves, and so ob- 
taining victories that neither myself nor my 
cause always deserved. I continu'd this method 
some few years, but gradually left it, retaining 
only the habit of expressing myself in terms of 
modest diffidence ; never using, when I ad- 
vanced any thing that may possibly be dis- 
puted, the words certainly, undoubtedly, or 
any others that give the air of positiveness to 
an opinion ; but rather say, I conceive or appre- 
hend a thing to be so and so ; it appears to me, 
or I should think it so or so, for such and such 
reasons ; or I imagine it to be so ; or it is so, 
if I am not mistaken. This habit, I believe, 
has been of great advantage to me when I have 
had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and per- 
suade men into measures that I have been from 
time to time engag'd in promoting ; and, as 
the chief ends of conversation are to inform or 
to be informed, to please or to persuade, I 
wish well-meaning, sensible men would not 
lessen their power of doing good by a positive, 
assuming manner, that seldom fails to disgust, 
tends to create opposition, and to defeat every 
one of those purposes for which speech was 
given to us, to wit, giving or receiving infor- 
mation or pleasure. For, if you would inform, 
24 



Early Life 

a positive and dogmatical manner in advancing 
your sentiments may provoke contradiction and 
prevent a candid attention. If you wish in- 
formation and improvement from the knowl- 
edge of others, and yet at the same time ex- 
press yourself as firmly fix'd in your present, 
opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not 
love disputation, will probably leave you undis- 
turbed in the , possession of your error. And 
by such a manner, you can seldom hope to rec- 
ommend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or 
to persuade those whose concurrence you de- 
sire. Pope says, judiciously : 

" Men should be taught as if you taught them not. 
And things unknown proposed as things for got' 1 '' ; 

farther recommending to us 

" To speak, tho' sure, with seeming - diffidence." 

And he might have coupled with this line that 
which he has coupled with another, I think* 
less properly : 

" For want of modesty is want of sense." 
If you ask, Why less properly ? I must repeat 
the lines : 

" Immodest words admit of no defense, 
For want of modesty is want of sense." 

Now, is not want of sense (where a man is so 
unfortunate as to want it) some apology for his 
want of modesty f and would not the lines 
stand more justly thus ? 

" Immodest words admit but this defense, 
That want of modesty is want of sense." 

25 



Benjamin Franklin 

This, however, I should submit to better judg- 
ments. 

My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to 
print a newspaper. It was the second that ap- 
peared in America, and was called the New 
England Courant. The only one before it 
was the Boston News-Letter. I remember 
his being dissuaded by some of his friends from 
the undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one 
newspaper being, in their judgment, enough 
for America. At this time (1771) there are not 
less than five-and-twenty. He went on, how- 
ever, with the undertaking, and after having 
worked in composing the types and printing 
off the sheets, I was employed to carry the pa- 
pers thro' the streets to the customers. 

He had some ingenious men among his 
friends, who amus'd themselves by writing 
little pieces for this paper, which gain'd it 
credit and made it more in demand, and these 
gentlemen often visited us. Hearing their con- 
versations and their accounts of the approba- 
tion their papers were received with, I was ex- 
cited to try my hand among them ; but, being 
still a boy, and suspecting that my brother 
would object to printing any thing of mine in 
his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived 
to disguise my hand, and, writing an anony- 
mous paper, I put it in at night under the door 
of the printing-house. It was found in the 
morning, and communicated to his writing 
friends when they call'd in as usual. They 
26 



Early Life 

read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I 
had the exquisite pleasure of finding it met 
with their approbation, and that, in their differ- 
ent guesses at the author, none were named but 
men of some character among us for learning 
and ingenuity. I suppose now that I was 
rather lucky in my judges, and that perhaps 
they were not really so very good ones as I then 
esteem'd them. 

Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and 
convey' d in the same way to the press several 
more papers, which were equally approv'd ; 
and I kept my secret till my small fund of sense 
for such performances was pretty well exhaust- 
ed, and then I discovered it, when I began to 
be considered a little more by my brother's ac- 
quaintance, and in a manner that did not quite 
please him, as he thought, probably with rea- 
son, that it tended to make me too vain. And 
perhaps this might be one occasion of the differ- 
ences that we began to have about this time. 
Though a brother, he considered himself as my 
master, and me as his apprentice, and accord- 
ingly expected the same services from me as 
he would from another, while I thought he de- 
mean' d me too much in some he requir'd of 
me, who from a brother expected more indul- 
gence. Our disputes were often brought be- 
fore our father, and I fancy I was either gen- 
erally in the right, or else a better pleader, be- 
cause the judgment was generally in my favor. 
But my brother was passionate, and had often 
27 



Benjamin Franklin 

beaten me, which I took extreamly amiss ; and, 
thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I was 
continually wishing for some opportunity of 
shortening it, which at length offered in a man- 
ner unexpected.* 

One of the pieces in our newspaper on some 
political point, which I have now forgotten r 
gave offense to the Assembly. He was taken up, 
censur'd, and imprison'd for a month, by the 
Speaker's warrant, I suppose, because he would 
not discover his author. I too was taken up and 
examin'd before the council ; but, tho' I did not 
give them any satisfaction, they content' d them- 
selves with admonishing me, and dismissed 
me, considering me, perhaps, as an apprentice, 
who was bound to keep his master's secrets. 

During my brother's confinement, which I 
resented a good deal, notwithstanding our pri- 
vate differences, I had the management of the 
paper ; and I made bold to give our rulers some 
rubs in it, which my brother took very kindly, 
while others began to consider me in an unfavor- 
able light, as a young genius that had a turn 
for libelling and satyr. My brother's discharge 
was accompany' d with an order of the House 
(a very odd one), that "James Franklin should 
no longer print the paper called the New 
England Courant, ' ' 

There was a consultation held in our print- 

* I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me 
might be a means of impressing me with that aversion 
to arbitrary power that has stuck to me through my 
whole life. 

28 



Early Life 

ing-house among his friends, what he should 
do in this case. Some proposed to evade the 
order by changing the name of the paper ; but 
my brother, # seeing inconveniences in that, it 
was finally concluded on as a better way, to let 
it be printed for the future under the name of 
Benjamin Franklin ; and to avoid the censure 
of the Assembly, that might fall on him as 
still printing it by his apprentice, the contri- 
vance was that my old indenture should be re- 
turn 'd to me, with a full discharge on the back 
of it, to be shown on occasion, but to secure to 
him the benefit of my service, I was to sign new- 
indentures for the remainder of the term, which 
were to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme 
it was ; however, it was immediately executed, 
and the paper went on accordingly, under my 
name for several months. 

At length, a fresh difference arising between 
my brother and me, I took upon me to assert 
my freedom, presuming that he would not ven- 
ture to produce the new indentures. It was 
not fair in me to take this advantage, and this 
I therefore reckon one of the first errata of my 
life ; but the unfairness of it weighed little with 
me, when under the impressions of resentment, 
for the blows his passion too often urged him 
to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise 
not an ill-natur'd man : perhaps I was too saucy 
and provoking. 

When he found I would leave him, he took 
care to prevent my getting employment in any 
29 



Benjamin Franklin 

other printing-house of the town, by going 
round and speaking to every master, who ac- 
cordingly refus'd to give me work. I then 
thought of going to New York, as the nearest 
place where there was a printer ; and I was 
rather inclin'd to leave Boston when I reflected 
that I had already made myself a little obnox- 
ious to the governing party, and, from the ar- 
bitrary proceedings of the Assembly in my 
brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stay'd, 
soon bring myself into scrapes ; and farther, 
that my indiscrete disputations about religion 
began to make me pointed at with horror by 
good people as an infidel or atheist. I deter- 
min'd on the point, but my father now siding 
with my brother, I was sensible that, if I at- 
tempted to go openly, means would be used to 
prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, un- 
dertook to manage a little for me. He agreed 
with the captain of a New York sloop for my 
passage, under the notion of my being a young 
acquaintance of his, that had got a naughty 
girl with child, whose friends would compel 
me to marry her, and therefore I could not ap- 
pear or come away publicly. So I sold some 
of my books to raise a little money, was taken 
on board privately, and as we had a fair wind, 
in three days I found myself in New York, near 
300 miles from home, a boy of but 17, without 
the least recommendation to, or knowledge of 
any person in the place, and with very little 
money in my pocket. 

30 



Early Life 

My inclinations for the sea were by this time 
worn out, or I might now have gratify 'd them. 
But, having a trade, and supposing myself a 
pretty good workman, I offer' d my service to 
the printer in the place, old Mr. William Brad- 
ford, who had been the first printer in Penn- 
sylvania, but removed from thence upon the 
quarrel of George Keith. He could give me 
no employment, having little to do, and help 
enough already ; but says he, " My son at 
Philadelphia has lately lost his principal hand, 
Aquila Rose, by death ; if you go thither, I be- 
lieve he may employ you." Philadelphia was 
a hundred miles further ; I set out, however, in 
a boat for Amboy, leaving my chest and things- 
to follow me round by sea. 

In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that 
tore our rotten sails to pieces, prevented our 
getting into the Kill, and drove us upon Long 
Island. In our way, a drunken Dutchman, 
who was a passenger too, fell overboard ; when 
he was sinking, I reached through the water to 
his shock pate, and drew him up, so that we 
got him in again. His ducking sobered him a, 
little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of 
his pocket a book, which he desir'd I would dry 
for him. It proved to be my old favorite au- 
thor, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch,, 
finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts,, 
a dress better than I had ever seen it wear in 
its own language. I have since found that it 
has been translated into most of the languages 
3i 



Benjamin Franklin 

of Europe, and suppose it has been more gen- 
erally read than any other book, except perhaps 
the Bible. Honest John was the first that I 
know of who mix'd narration and dialogue ; a 
method of writing very engaging to the reader, 
who in the most interesting parts finds himself, 
as it were, brought into the company and pres- 
ent at the discourse. De Foe in his " Crusoe," 
his " Moll Flanders," " Religious Courtship," 
" Family Instructor," and other pieces, has 
imitated it with success ; and Richardson has 
done the same in his " Pamela," etc. 

When we drew near the island, we found it 
was at a place where there could be no land- 
ing, there being a great surff on the stony 
beach. So we dropt anchor, and swung round 
towards the shore. Some people came down to 
the water edge and hallow' d to us, as we did 
to them ; but the wind was so high, and the 
surf! so loud, that we could not hear so as to 
understand each other. There were canoes on 
the shore, and we made signs, and hallow'd 
that they should fetch us ; but they either did 
not understand us, or thought it impracticable, 
so they went away, and night coming on, we 
had no reme ly but to wait till the wind should 
abate ; and, in the mean time, the boatman and 
I concluded to sleep, if we could ; and so 
•crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, 
who was still wet, and the spray beating over 
the head of our boat, leak'd through to us, so 
that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this 
32 



Early Life 

manner we lay all night, with very little rest ; 
but the wind abating the next day, we made a 
shift to reach Amboy before night, having been 
thirty hours on the water, without victuals, or 
any drink but a bottle of filthy rum, the water 
we sail'd on being salt. 

In the evening I found myself very feverish, 
and went in to bed ; but, having read some- 
where that cold water drank plentifully was 
good for a fever, I follow'd the prescription, 
sweat plentifully most of the night, my fever 
left me, and in the morning, crossing the ferry, 
I proceeded on my journey on foot, having fifty 
miles to Burlington, where I was told I should 
find boats that would carry me the rest of the 
way to Philadelphia. 

It rained very hard all the day ; I was thor- 
oughly soak'd, and by noon a good deal tired ; 
so I stopt at a poor inn, where I stayed all 
night, beginning now to wish that I had never 
left home. I cut so miserable a figure, too, that 
I found, by the questions ask'd me, I was sus- 
pected to be some runaway servant, and in dan- 
ger of being taken up on that suspicion. How- 
ever, I proceeded the next day, and got in the 
evening to an inn, within eight or ten miles of 
Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown. He en- 
tered into conversation with me while I took 
some refreshment, and, finding I had read a 
little, became very sociable and friendly. Our 
acquaintance continu'd as long as he liv'd. He 
had been, I imagine, an itinerant doctor, for 
33 



Benjamin Franklin 

there was no town in England, or country in 
Europe, of which he could not give a very par- 
ticular account. He had some letters, and was 
ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and. 
wickedly undertook, some years after, to traves- 
tie the Bible in doggrel verse, as Cotton had 
done Virgil. By this means he set many of the 
facts in a very ridiculous light, and might have 
hurt weak minds if his work had been pub- 
lished ; but it never was. 

At his house I lay that night, and the next 
morning reach 'd Burlington, but had the mor- 
tification to find that the regular boats were 
gone a little before my coming, and no other 
expected to go before Tuesday, this being Sat- 
urday ; wherefore I returned to an old woman 
in the town, of whom I had bought ginger- 
bread to eat on the water, and ask'd her advice- 
She invited me to lodge at her house till a pas- 
sage by water should offer ; and being tired 
with my foot travelling, I accepted the invita- 
tion. She understanding I was a printer, would, 
have had me stay at that town and follow my 
business, being ignorant of the stock necessary 
to begin with. She was very hospitable, gave 
me a dinner of ox-cheek with great good will, 
accepting only of a pot of ale in return ; and I 
thought myself fixed till Tuesday should come. 
However, walking in the evening by the side 
of the river, a boat came by, which I found was 
going towards Philadelphia, with several peo- 
ple in her. They took me in, and, as there was 
34 



Early Life 

no wind, we row'd all the way ; and about mid- 
night, not having yet seen the city, some of the 
company were confident we must have passed 
it, and would row no farther ; the others knew 
not where we were ; so we put toward the 
shore, got into a creek, landed near an old 
fence, with the rails of which we made a fire, 
the night being cold, in October, and there we 
remained till daylight. Then one of the com- 
pany knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a 
little above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon 
as we got out of the creek, and arriv'd there 
about eight or nine o'clock on the Sunday 
morning, and landed at the Market-street 
wharf. 

I have been the more particular in this de- 
scription of my journey, and shall be so of my 
first entry into that city, that you may in your 
mind compare such unlikely beginnings with 
the figure I have since made there. I was in 
my working dress, my best cloaths being to 
come round by sea. I was dirty from my jour- 
ney ; my pockets were stuff' d out with shirts 
and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where 
to look for lodging. I was fatigued with trav- 
elling, rowing and want of rest, I was very 
hungry ; and my whole stock of cash consisted 
of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling in cop- 
per. The latter I gave the people of the boat 
for my passage, who at first refus'd it, on ac- 
count of my rowing ; but I insisted on their 
taking it. A man being sometimes more gen- 
35 



Benjamin Franklin 

erous when he has but a little money than when 
he has plenty, perhaps thro' fear of being 
thought to have but little. 

Then I walked up the street, gazing about 
till near the market-house I met a boy with 
bread. I had made many a meal on bread, 
and, inquiring where he got it, I went immedi- 
ately to the baker's he directed me to, in Sec- 
ond-street, and ask'd for biscuit, intending such 
as we had in Boston ; but they, it seems, were 
not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a 
three-penny loaf, and was told they had none 
such. So not considering or knowing the dif- 
ference of money, and the greater cheapness 
nor the names of his bread, I bade him give me 
three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me, 
accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was sur- 
pris'd at the quantity, but took it, and, having 
no room in my pockets, walk'd off with a roll 
under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I 
went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street, 
passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future 
wife's father ; when she, standing at the door, 
saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, 
a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then 
I turned and went down Chestnut-street and 
part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all the 
way, and, coming round, found myself again 
at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came 
in, to which 1 went for a draught of the river 
water ; and, being filled with one of my rolls, 
gave the other two to a woman and her child 

36 



Early Life 

that came down the river in the boat with tis, 
and were waiting to go farther. 

Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, 
which by this time had many clean-dressed peo- 
ple in it, who were all walking the same way. 
I joined them, and thereby was led into the 
great meeting-house of the Quakers near the 
market. I sat down among them, and, after 
looking round awhile and hearing nothing said, 
being very drowsy thro' labor and want of rest 
the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and con- 
tinu'd so till the meeting broke up, when one 
was kind enough to rouse me. This was, there- 
fore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in 
Philadelphia. 

Walking down again toward the river, and, 
looking in the faces of people, I met a young 
Quaker man, whose countenance I lik'd, and, 
accosting him, requested he would tell me 
where a stranger could get lodging. We were 
then near the sign of the Three Mariners. 
" Here," says he, " is one place that entertains 
strangers, but it is not a reputable house ; if 
thee wilt walk with me I '11 show thee a better/ ' 
He brought me to the Crooked Billet, in Water- 
street. Here I got a dinner ; and, while I was 
eating it, several sly questions were asked me, 
as it seemed to be suspected from my youth 
and appearance that I might be some run- 
away. 

After dinner my sleepiness return'd, and 
being shown to a bed, I lay down without un- 
37 



Benjamin Franklin 

dressing, and slept till six in the evening, was 
call'd to supper, went to bed again very early, 
and slept soundly till next morning. Then I 
made myself as tidy as I could, and went to 
Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the 
shop the old man his father, whom I had seen 
at New York, and who, travelling on horse- 
back, had got to Philadelphia before me. He 
introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civ- 
illy, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did. 
not at present want a hand, being lately sup- 
pli'd with one ; but there was another printer 
in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, per- 
haps, might employ me ; if not, I should be 
welcome to lodge at his house, and he would 
give me a little work to do now and then till 
fuller business should offer. 

The old gentleman said he would go with me 
to the new printer ; and when we found him, 
" Neighbor," says Bradford, " I have brought 
to see you a young man of your business ; per- 
haps you may want such a one." He ask'd 
me a few questions, put a composing stick in 
my hand to see how I work'd, and then said he 
would employ me soon, though he had just then 
nothing for me to do ; and, taking old Brad- 
ford, whom he had never seen before, to be 
one of the townspeople that had a good will for 
him, enter'd into a conversation on his present 
undertaking and prospects ; while Bradford, 
not discovering that he was the other printer's 
father, on Keimer 's saying he expected soon to 
38 



Early Life 

get the greatest part of the business into his 
own hands, drew him on by artful questions, 
and starting little doubts, to explain all his 
views, what interest he reli'd on, and in what 
manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood 
by and heard all, saw immediately that one of 
them was a crafty old sophister, and the other 
a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, 
who was greatly surpris'd when I told him who 
the old man was. 

Keimer' s printing-house, I found, consisted 
of an old shatter 'd press and one small, worn- 
out font of English, which he was then using 
himself, composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, 
before mentioned, an ingenious young man, of 
excellent character, much respected in the 
town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. 
Keimer made verses too, but very indifferently. 
He could not be said to write them, for his man- 
ner was to compose them in the types directly 
out of his head. So there being no copy, but 
one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to re- 
quire all the letter, no one could help him. I 
endeavor' d to put his press (which he had not 
yet us'd, and of which, he understood nothing) 
into order fit to be work'd with ; and promising 
to come and print off his Elegy as soon as he 
should have got it ready, I return 'd to Brad- 
ford's, who gave me a little job to do for the 
present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few 
days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the 
Elegy. And now he had got another pair of 



Benjamin Franklin 

cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he 
set me to work. 

These two printers I found poorly qualified 
for their business. Bradford had not been bred 
to it, and was very illiterate ; and Keimer, tho* 
something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, 
knowing nothing of press-work. He had been 
one of the French prophets, and could act their 
enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did 
not profess any particular religion, but some- 
thing of all on occasion ; was very ignorant of 
the world, and had, as I afterward found, a 
good deal of the knave in his composition. He 
did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I 
work'd with him. He had a house, indeed, but 
without furniture, so he could not lodge me ; 
but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's, before 
mentioned, who was the owner of his house ; 
and, my chest and clothes being come by this 
time, I made rather a more respectable appear- 
ance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had done 
when she first happen 'd to see me eating my 
roll in the street. 

I began now to have some acquaintance 
among the young people of the town, that were 
lovers of reading, with whom I spent my even- 
ings very pleasantly ; and gaining money by 
my industry and frugality, I lived very agree- 
ably, forgetting Boston as much as I could, and 
not desiring that any there should know where 
I resided, except my friend Collins, who was 
in my secret, and kept it when I wrote to him. 
40 



Early Life 

At length an incident happened that sent me 
back again much sooner than I had intended. 
I had a brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master 
of a sloop that traded between Boston and Dela- 
ware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles be- 
low Philadelphia, heard there of me, and wrote 
me a letter mentioning the concern of my 
friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, as- 
suring me of their good will to me, and that 
every thing would be accommodated to my 
mind if I would return, to which he exhorted 
me very earnestly. I wrote an answer to his 
letter, thank' d him for his advice, but stated 
my reasons for quitting Boston fully and in 
such a light as to convince him I was not so 
wrong as he had apprehended. 

Sir William Keith, governor of the province, 
was then at Newcastle, and Captain Holmes, 
happening to be in company with him when 
my letter came to hand, spoke to him of me, 
and show'd him the letter. The governor read 
it, and seem'd surpris'd when he was told my 
age. He said I appear' d a young man of prom- 
ising parts, and therefore should be encour- 
aged ; the printers at Philadelphia were wretch- 
ed ones ; and, if I would set up there, he made 
no doubt I should succeed ; for his part, he 
would procure me the public business, and do 
me every other service in his power. This my 
brother-in-law afterward told me in Boston, 
but I knew as yet nothing of it ; when, one 
day, Keimer and I being at work together near 
4i 



Benjamin Franklin 

the window, we saw the governor and another 
gentleman (which proved to be Colonel French, 
of Newcastle), finely dress' d, come directly 
across the street to our house, and heard them 
at the door. 

Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a. 
visit to him ; but the governor inquir'd for me, 
came up, and with a condescension and polite- 
ness I had been quite unus'd to, made me 
many compliments, desired to be acquainted 
with me, blam'd me kindly for not having made 
myself known to him when I first came to the 
place, and would have me away with him to 
the tavern, where he was going with Colonel 
French to taste, as he said, some excellent 
Madeira. I was not a little surpris'd, and 
Keimer star'd like a pig poison'd. I went, 
however, with the governor and Colonel French 
to a tavern, at the corner of Third-street, and 
over the Madeira he propos'd my setting up 
my business, laid before me the probabilities of 
success, and both he and Colonel French as- 
sur'd me I should have their interest and influ- 
ence in procuring the public business of both 
governments. On my doubting whether my 
father would assist me in it, Sir William said 
he would give me a letter to him, in which he 
would state the advantages, and he did not 
doubt of prevailing with him. So it was con- 
cluded I should return to Boston in the first 
vessel, with the governor's letter recommend- 
ing me to my father. In the mean time the in- 
42 



Early Life 

tention was to be kept a secret, and I went on 
working with Keimer as usual, the governor 
sending for me now and then to dine with him, 
a very great honor I thought it, and conversing 
with me in the most affable, familiar, and 
friendly manner imaginable. 

About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel 
offer' d for Boston. I took leave of Keimer as 
going to see my friends. The governor gave 
me an ample letter, saying many flattering 
things of me to my father, and strongly recom- 
mending the project of my setting up at Phila- 
delphia as a thing that must make my fortune. 
We struck on a shoal in going down the bay, 
and sprung a leak ; we had a blustering time 
at sea, and were oblig'd to pump almost con- 
tinually, at which I took my turn. We arriv'd 
safe, however, at Boston in about a fortnight. 
I had been absent seven months, and my friends 
had heard nothing of me ; for my br. Holmes 
was not yet return'd, and had not written about 
me. My unexpected appearance surpris'd the 
family ; all were, however, very glad to see me, 
and made me welcome, except my brother. I 
went to see him at his printing-house. I was 
better dress' d than ever while in his service, 
having a genteel new suit from head to foot, a 
watch, and my pockets lin'd with near five 
pounds sterling in silver. He receiv'd me not 
very frankly, look'd me all over, and turn'd to 
his work again. 

The journeymen were inquisitive where I 
43 



Benjamin Franklin 

had been, what sort of a country it was, and 
how I lik'd it. I prais'd it much, and the happy 
life I led in it, expressing strongly my inten- 
tion of returning to it ; and, one of them asking 
what kind of money we had there, I produc'd 
a handful of silver, and spread it before them, 
which was a kind of raree-show they had not 
been us'd to, paper being the money of Boston. 
Then I took an opportunity of letting them see 
my watch ; and, lastly (my brother still grum 
and sullen), I gave them a piece of eight to 
drink, and took my leave. This visit of mine 
offended him extremely ; for, when my mother 
some time after spoke to him of a reconcilia- 
tion, and of her wishes to see us on good terms 
together, and that we might live for the future 
as brothers, he said I had insulted him in such 
a manner before his people that he could never 
forget or forgive it. In this, however, he was 
mistaken. 

My father received the governor's letter with 
some apparent surprise, but said little of it to 
me for several days, when Capt. Holmes re- 
turning he show'd it to him, ask'd him if he 
knew Keith, and what kind of man he was ; 
adding his opinion that he must be of small dis- 
cretion to think of setting a boy up in business 
who wanted yet three years of being at man's 
estate. Holmes said what he could in favor of 
the project, but my father was clear in the im- 
propriety of it, and at last gave a flat denial to 
it. Then he wrote a civil letter to Sir William, 
44 



Early Life 

thanking him for the patronage he had so 
kindly offered me, but declining to assist me as 
yet in setting up, I being, in his opinion, too 
young to be trusted with the management of a 
business so important, and for which the prep- 
aration must be so expensive. 

My friend and companion Collins, who was a 
clerk in the post-office, pleas'd with the account 
I gave him of my new country, determined to 
go thither also ; and, while I waited for my 
father's determination, he set out before me by 
land to Rhode Island, leaving his books, which 
were a pretty collection of mathematicks and 
natural philosophy, to come with mine and me 
to New York, where he propos'd to wait for me. 

My father, tho' he did not approve Sir Wil- 
liam's proposition, was yet pleas'd that I had 
been able to obtain so advantageous a charac- 
ter from a person of such note where I had re- 
sided, and that I had been so industrious and 
careful as to equip myself so handsomely in so 
short a time ; therefore, seeing no prospect of 
an accommodation between my brother and 
me, he gave his consent to my returning again 
to Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave respect- 
fully to the people there, endeavor to obtain the 
general esteem, and avoid lampooning and 
libeling, to which he thought I had too much 
inclination ; telling me, that by steady industry 
and a prudent parsimony 1 might save enough 
by the time I was one and-twenty to set me 
up ; and that, if I came near the matter, he 
45 



Benjamin Franklin 

would help me out with the rest. This was all 
I could obtain, except some small gifts as 
tokens of his and my mother's love, when I em- 
bark 'd again for New York, now with their ap- 
probation and their blessing. 

The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode 
Island, I visited my brother John, who had 
been married and settled there some years. 
He received me very affectionately, for he al- 
ways lov'd me. A friend of his, one Vernon, 
having some money due to him in Pennsyl- 
vania, about thirty-five pounds currency, de- 
sired I would receive it for him, and keep it 
till I had his directions what to remit it in. 
Accordingly, he gave me an order. This after- 
wards occasion 'd me a good deal of uneasiness. 

At Newport we took in a number of passen- 
gers for New York, among which were two 
young women, companions, and a grave, sensi- 
ble, matron-like Quaker woman, with her at- 
tendants I had shown an obliging readiness 
to do her some little services, which impress'd 
her I suppose with a degree of good-will toward 
me ; therefore, when she saw a daily growing 
familiarity between me and the two young 
women, which they appear' d to encourage, she 
took me aside, and said, "Young man, I am 
concern 'd for thee, as thou has no friend with 
thee, and seems not to know much of the world, 
or of the snares youth is expos' d to ; depend 
upon it, those are very bad women ; I can see 
it in all their actions ; and if thee art not upon 
46 



Early Life 

thy guard, they will draw thee into some dan- 
ger ; they are strangers to thee, and I advise 
thee, in a friendly concern for thy welfare, to 
have no acquaintance with them." As I 
seem'd at first not to think so ill of them as she 
did, she mentioned some things she had ob- 
served and heard that had escap'd my notice, 
but now convinc'd me she was right. I thank' d 
her for her kind advice, and promis'd to follow 
it. When we arriv'd at New York, they told 
me where they liv'd, and invited me to come 
and see them ; but I avoided it, and it was well 
I did ; for the next day the captain miss'd a 
silver spoon and some other things, that had 
been taken out of his cabin, and, knowing that 
these were a couple of strumpets, he got a war- 
rant to search their lodgings, found the stolen 
goods, and had the thieves punish'd. So, tho' 
we had escap'd a sunken rock, which we scrap'd 
upon in the passage, I thought this escape of 
rather more importaace to me. 

At New York I found my friend Collins, who 
had arriv'd there some time before me. We 
had been intimate from children, and had read 
the same books together ; but he had the ad- 
vantage of more time for reading and studying, 
and a wonderful genius for mathematical learn- 
ing, in which he far outstript me. While I liv'd. 
in Boston, most of my hours of leisure for con- 
versation were spent with him, and he con- 
tinu'd a sober as well as an industrious lad ; 
was much respected for his learning by several 
47 



Benjamin Franklin 

of the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed 
to promise making a good figure in life. But, 
during my absence, he had acquir'd a habit of 
sotting with brandy ; and I found by his own 
account, and what I heard from others, that he 
had been drunk every day since his arrival at 
New York, and behav'd very oddly. He had 
gam'd, too, and lost his money, so that I was 
oblig'd to discharge his lodgings, and defray 
his expenses to and at Philadelphia, which 
prov'd extremely inconvenient to me. 

The then governor of New York, Burnet (son 
of Bishop Burnet), hearing from the captain 
that a young man, one of his passengers, had a 
great many books, desir'd he would bring me 
to see him. I waited upon him accordingly, 
and should have taken Collins with me but that 
he was not sober. The gov'r. treated me with 
great civility, show'd me his library, which was 
a very large one, and we had a good deal of 
conversation about books and authors. This 
was the second governor who had done me the 
honor to take notice of me ; which, to a poor 
boy like me, was very pleasing. 

We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received 
on the way Vernon's money, without which we 
could hardly have finish'd our journey. Col- 
lins wished to be employ' d in some counting- 
house ; but, whether they discover 'd his dram- 
ming by his breath, or by his behaviour, tho* 
he had some recommendations, he met with no 
success in any application, and continu'd lodg- 
48 



Early Life 

ing and boarding at the same house with me, 
and at my expense. Knowing I had that money 
of Vernon's, he was continually borrowing of 
me, still promising repayment as soon as he 
should be in business. At length he had got 
so much of it that I was distress' d to think 
what I should do in case of being call'd on to 
remit it. 

His drinking continu'd, about which we 
sometimes quarrel' d ; for, when a little intoxi- 
cated, he was very fractious. Once, in a boat 
on the Delaware with some other young men, 
he refused to row in his turn. ' ' I will be row'd 
home," says he. " We will not row you," says 
I. M You must, or stay all night on the water," 
says he, "just as you please." The others 
said, "Let us row; what signifies it?" But, 
my mind being soured with his other conduct, 
I continu'd to refuse. So he swore he would 
make me row, or throw me overboard ; and 
coming along, stepping on the thwarts, toward 
me, when he came up and struck at me, I 
clapped my hand under his crutch, and, rising, 
pitched him head-foremost into the river. I 
knew he was a good swimmer, and so was un- 
der little concern about him ; but before he 
could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had 
with a few strokes pull'd her out of his reach ; 
and ever when he drew near the boat, we ask'd 
if he would row, striking a few strokes to slide 
her away from him. He was ready to die with 
vexation, and obstinately would not promise to 
49 



Benjamin Franklin 

row. However, seeing him at last beginning 
to tire, we lifted him in and brought him home 
dripping wet in the evening. We hardly ex- 
chang'd a civil word afterwards, and a West 
India captain, who had a commission to procure 
a tutor for the sons of a gentleman at Barba- 
does, happening to meet with him, agreed to 
carry him thither. He left me then, promising 
to remit me the first money he should receive 
in order to discharge the debt ; but I never 
heard of him after. 

The breaking into this money of Vernon's 
was one of the first great errata of my life ; and 
this affair show'd that my father was not much 
out in his judgment when he suppos'd me too 
young to manage business of importance. But 
Sir William, on reading his letter, said he was 
too prudent. There was great difference in 
persons ; and discretion did not always accom- 
pany years, nor was youth always without it. 
" And since he will not set you up," says he, 
" I will do it myself. Give me an inventory of 
the things necessary to be had from England, 
and I will send for them. You shall repay me 
when you are able ; I am resolv'd to have a 
good printer here, and I am sure you must suc- 
ceed." This was spoken with such an appear- 
ance of cordiality, that I had not the least doubt 
of his meaning what he said. I had hitherto 
kept the proposition of my setting up, a secret 
in Philadelphia, and I still kept it Had it been 
known that I depended on the governor, prob- 
50 



Early Life 

ably some friend, that knew him better, would 
have advis'd me not to rely on him, as I after- 
wards heard it as his known character to be 
liberal of promises which he never meant to 
keep. Yet, unsolicited as he was by me, how 
could I think his generous offers insincere ? I 
believ'd him one of the best men in the world. 

I presented him an inventory of a little 
printing-house, amounting by my computation to 
about one hundred pounds sterling. He hk'd 
it, but ask'd me if my being on the spot in 
England to choose the types, and see that every 
thing was good of the kind, might not be of 
some advantage. "Then," says he, "when 
there, you may make acquaintances, and estab- 
lish correspondences in the bookselling and 
stationery way." I agreed that this might be 
advantageous. "Then," says he, "get your- 
self ready to go with Annzs" ; which was the 
annual ship, and the only one at that time 
usually passing between London and Philadel- 
phia. But it would be some months before 
Annis sail'd, so I continu'd working with 
Keimer, fretting about the money Collins had 
got from me, and in daily apprehensions of 
being call'd upon by Vernon, which, however, 
did not happen for some years after. 

I believe I have omitted mentioning that, in 
my first voyage from Boston, being becalm 'd 
off Block Island, our people set about catching 
cod, and hauled up a good many. Hitherto I 
had stuck to my resolution of not eating animal 
5i 



Benjamin Franklin 

food, and on this occasion I consider' d, with 
my master Tryon, the taking every fish as a 
kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them 
had, or ever could do us any injury that might 
justify the slaughter. All this seemed very 
reasonable. But I had formerly been a great 
lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of 
the frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I bal- 
anc'd some time between principle and inclina- 
tion, till I recollected that, when the fish were 
opened, I saw smaller fish taken out of their 
stomachs ; then thought I, "If you eat one an- 
other, I don't see why we may n't eat you." 
So I din'd upon cod very heartily, and con- 
tinued to eat with other people, returning only 
now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. 
So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable 
£reature> since it enables one to find or make 
a reason for every thing one has a mind to do. 

Keimer and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar 
footing, and agreed tolerably well, for he sus- 
pected nothing of my setting up. He retained 
a great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd 
argumentation. We therefore had many dis- 
putations. I used to work him so with my So- 
cratic method, and had trepann'd him so often 
by questions apparently so distant from any 
point we had in hand, and yet by degrees lead 
to the point, and brought him into difficulties 
and contradictions, that at last he grew ridicu- 
lously cautious, and would hardly answer me 
the most common question, without asking 
52 



Early Life 

first : " What do you intend to infer front 
t/iat f" However, it gave him so high an opin- 
ion of my abilities in the confuting way, that 
he seriously proposed my being his colleague 
in a project he had of setting up a new sect. 
He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to 
confound all opponents. When he came to ex- 
plain with me upon the doctrines, I found sev- 
eral conundrums which I objected to, unless I 
might have my way a little too, and introduce 
some of mine. 

Keimer wore his beard at full length, because 
somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, " Thou 
shalt not mar the corners of thy beard. ' ' He 
likewise kept the Seventh day, Sabbath ; and 
these two points were essentials with him. I 
dislik'd both ; but agreed to admit them upon 
condition of his adopting the doctrine of using 
no animal food. " I doubt," said he, " my con- 
stitution will not bear that." I assur'd him it 
would, and that he would be better for it. He 
was usually a great glutton, and I promised 
myself some diversion in half starving him. 
He agreed to try the practice, if I would keep 
him company. I did so, and we held it for 
three months. We had our victuals dress'd, 
and brought to us regularly by a woman in the 
neighborhood, who had from me a list of forty 
dishes, to be prepar'd for us at different times, 
in all which there was neither fish, flesh, nor 
fowl, and the whim suited me the better at this 
time from the cheapness of it, not costing us 
53 



Benjamin Franklin 

above eighteen pence sterling each per week. 
I have since kept several Lents most strictly, 
leaving the common diet for that, and that for 
the common, abruptly, without the least incon- 
venience, so that I think there is little in the 
advice of making those changes by easy grada- 
tions. I went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer 
suffered grievously, tired of the project, long'd 
for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast 
pig. He invited me and two women friends to 
dine with him ; but, it being brought too soon 
upon table, he could not resist the temptation, 
and ate the whole before we came. 

I had made some courtship during this time 
to Miss Read. I had a great respect and affec- 
tion for her, and had some reason to believe 
she had the same for me ; but, as I was about 
to take a long voyage, and we were both very 
young, only a little above eighteen, it was 
thought must prudent by her mother to prevent 
our going too far at present, as a marriage, if 
it was to take place, would be more convenient 
after my return, when I should be, as I expect- 
ed, set up in my business. Perhaps, too, she 
thought my expectations not so well founded 
as I imagined them to be. 

My chief acquaintances at this time were 
Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James 
Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first 
were clerks to an eminent scrivener or convey- 
ancer in the town, Charles Brogden ; the other 
was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, 
54 



Early Life 

sensible young man, of great integrity ; the 
others rather more lax in their principles of re- 
ligion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Col- 
lins, had been unsettled by me, for which they 
both made me suffer. Osborne was sensible, 
candid, frank ; sincere and affectionate to his 
friends ; but, in literary matters, too fond of 
criticising. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in 
his manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think 
I never knew a prettier talker. Both of them 
great admirers of poetry, and began to try their 
hands in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we 
four had together on Sundays into the woods, 
near Schuylkill, where we read to one another, 
and conferr'd on what we read. 

Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study, of 
poetry, not doubting but he might become emi- 
nent in it, and make his fortune by it, alleging 
that the best poets must, when they first began 
to write, make as many faults as he did. Os- 
borne dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no 
genius for poetry, and advis'd him to think of 
nothing beyond the business he was bred to ; 
that, in the mercantile way, tho' he had no 
stock, he might, by his diligence and punc- 
tuality, recommend himself to employment as a 
factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade 
on his own account. I approv'd the amusing 
one's self with poetry now and then, so far as 
to improve one's language, but no farther. 

On this it was propos'd that we should each 
of us, at our next meeting, produce a piece of 
55 



Benjamin Franklin 

our own composing, in order to improve by our 
mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections. 
As language and expression were what we had 
in view, we excluded all considerations of in- 
vention by agreeing that the task should be a 
version of the eighteenth Psalm, which de- 
scribes the descent of Deity. When the time 
of our meeting grew nigh, Ralph called on me 
first, and let me know his piece was ready. I 
told him I had been busy, and, having little in- 
clination, had done nothing. He then show'd 
me his piece for my opinion, and I much ap- 
prov'd it, as it appear'd to me to have great 
merit. " Now," says he, " Osborne never will 
allow the least merit in any thing of mine, but 
makes iooo criticisms out of mere envy. He is 
not so jealous of you ; I wish, therefore, you 
would take this piece, and produce it as yours ; 
I will pretend not to have had time, and so pro- 
duce nothing. We shall then see what he will 
say to it." It was agreed, and I immediately 
transcrib'd it, that it might appear in my own 
hand. 

We met ; Watson's performance was read ;, 
there were some beauties in it, but many de- 
fects. Osborne's was read ; it was much bet- 
ter ; Ralph did it justice ; remarked some 
faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself 
had nothing to produce. I was backward ; 
seemed desirous of being excused ; had not had 
sufficient time to correct, etc.; but no excuse 
would be admitted ; produce I must. It was. . 
56 



Early Life 

read and repeated ; Watson and Osborne gave 
tip the contest, and join'd in applauding it. 
Ralph only made some criticisms, and propos'd 
some amendments ; but I defended my text. 
Osborne was against Ralph, and told him he 
was no better a critic than poet, so he dropt the 
argument. As the two went home together, 
Osborne expressed himself still more strongly 
in favor of what he thought my production ; 
having restrain' d himself before, as he said, 
lest I should think it flattery. " But who would 
have imagin'd," said he, " that Franklin had 
been capable of such a performance ; such 
painting, such force, such fire ! He has even 
improv'd the original. In his common conver- 
sation he seems to have no choice of words ; he 
hesitates and blunders ; and yet, good God ! 
how he writes !" When we next met, Ralph 
discovered the trick we had plaid him, and Os- 
borne was a little laught at. 

This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution 
of becoming a poet. I did all I could to dis- 
suade him from it, but he continued scribbling 
verses till Pope cured him. He became, how- 
ever, a pretty good prose writer. More of him 
hereafter. But, as I may not have occasion 
again to mention the other two, I shall just re- 
mark here, that Watson died in my arms a few 
years after, much lamented, being the best of 
our set. Osborne went to the West Indies, 
where he became an eminent lawyer and made 
money, but died young. He and I had made a 
57 



Benjamin Franklin 

serious agreement, that the one who happen' d 
first to die should, if possible, make a friendly- 
visit to the other, and acquaint him how he 
found things in that separate state. But he 
never fulfill' d his promise. 

The governor, seeming to like my company, 
had me frequently to his house, and his setting 
me up was always mention'd as a fixed thing. 
I was to take with me letters recommendatory 
to a number of his friends, besides the letter of 
credit to furnish me with the necessary money 
for purchasing the press and types, paper, etc. 
For these letters I was appointed to call at dif- 
ferent times, when they were to be ready ; but 
a future time was still named. Thus he went 
on till the ship, whose departure too had been 
several times postponed, was on the point of 
sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave 
and receive the letters, his secretary, Dr. Bard, 
came out to me and said the governor was ex- 
tremely busy in writing, but would be down at 
Newcastle before the ship, and there the letters 
would be delivered to me. 

Ralph, though married, and having one child, 
had determined to accompany me on this voy- 
age. It was thought he intended to establish a 
correspondence, and obtain goods to sell on 
commission ; but I found afterwards, that, 
thro' some discontent with his wife's relations, 
he proposed to leave her on their hands, and 
never return again. Having taken leave of my 
friends, and interchang'd some promises with 
58 



Early Life 

Miss Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship, 
which anchor'd at Newcastle. The governor 
was there ; but when I went to his lodging, the 
secretary came to me from him with the civil- 
lest message in the world, that he could not 
then see me, being engaged in business of the 
utmost importance, but should send the letters 
to me on board, wish'd me heartily a good voy- 
age and a speedy return, etc. I returned on 
board a little puzzled, but still not doubting. 

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of 
Philadelphia, had taken passage in the same 
ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Den- 
ham, a Quaker merchant, and Messrs. Onion 
and Russel, masters of an iron work in Mary- 
land, had en gag' d the great cabin ; so that 
Ralph and I were forced to take up with a berth 
in the steerage, and none on board knowing 
us, were considered as ordinary persons. But 
Mr. Hamilton and his son (it was James, since 
governor) return' d from Newcastle to Philadel- 
phia, the father being recall 'd by a great fee to 
plead for a seized ship ; and, just before we 
sail'd, Colonel French coming on board, and 
showing me great respect, I was more taken 
notice of, and, with my friend Ralph, invited 
by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin, 
there being now room. Accordingly, we re- 
mov'd thither. 

Understanding that Colonel French had 
brought on board the governor's despatches, I 
ask'd the captain for those letters that were to 
59 



Benjamin Franklin 

be put under my care. He said all were put 
into the bag together and he could not then 
come at them ; but, before we landed in Eng- 
land, I should have an opportunity of picking 
them out ; so I was satisfied for the present, 
and we proceeded on our voyage. We had a 
sociable company in the cabin, and lived un- 
commonly well , having the addition of all Mr. 
Hamilton's stores, who had laid in plentifully. 
In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a friend- 
ship for me that continued during his life. The 
voyage was otherwise not a pleasant one, as 
we had a great deal of bad weather. 

When we came into the Channel, the captain 
kept his word with me, and gave me an oppor- 
tunity of examining the bag for the governor's 
letters. I found none* upon which my name 
was put as under my care. I picked out six or 
seven, that, by the handwriting, I thought 
might be the promised letters, especially as one 
of them was directed to Basket, the king's 
printer, and another to some stationer. We 
arriv'd in London the 24th of December, 1724. 
I waited upon the stationer, who came first in 
my way, delivering the letter as from Governor 
Keith. " I don't know such a person," says 
he ; but, opening the letter, " O ! this is from 
Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a 
complete rascal, and I will have nothing to do 
with him, nor receive any letters from him." 

* Evidently intended for "some." — Ed. 
60 



Early Life 



So, putting the letter into my hand, he turn'd 
on his heel and left me to serve some customer. 
I was surpris'd to find these were not the gov- 
ernor's letters ; and, after recollecting and com- 
paring circumstances, I began to doubt his sin- 
cerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened 
the whole affair to him. He let me into Keith's 
character ; told me there was not the least 
probability that he had written any letters for 
me ; that no one, who knew him, had the small- 
est dependence on him ; and he laught at the 
notion of the governor's giving me a letter of 
credit, having, as he said, no credit to give. 
On my expressing some concern about what I 
should do, he advised me to endeavor getting 
some employment in the way of my business. 
" Among the printers here," said he, " you will 
improve yourself, and when you return to 
America, you will set up to greater advantage." 
We both of us happened to know, as well as 
the stationer, that Riddlesden, the attorney, 
was a very knave. He had half ruin'd Miss 
Read's father by persuading him to be bound 
for him. By this letter it appear' d there was a 
secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Ham- 
ilton (suppos'd to be then coming over with us); 
and that Keith was concerned in it with Riddles- 
den. Denham, who was a friend of Hamil- 
ton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with 
it ; so, when he arriv'd in England, which was 
soon after, partly from resentment and ill-will 
to Keith and Riddlesden, and partly from good- 
61 



Benjamin Franklin 

will to him, I waited on him, and gave him the 
letter. He thank' d me cordially, the informa- 
tion being of importance to him ; and from that 
time he became my friend, greatly to my ad- 
vantage afterwards on many occasions. 

But what shall we think of a governor's play- 
ing such pitiful tricks, and imposing so grossly 
on a poor ignorant boy ! It was a habit he had 
acquired. He wish'd to please everybody ; 
and, having little to give, he gave expectations. 
He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, 
a pretty good writer, and a good governor for 
the people, tho' not for his constituents, the 
proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes 
disregarded. Several of our best laws were of 
his planning and passed during his adminis- 
tration. 

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. 
We took lodgings together in Little Britain at 
three shillings and sixpence a week — as much 
as we could then afford. He found some rela- 
tions, but they were poor, and unable to assist 
him. He now let me know his intentions of re- 
maining in London, and that he never meant 
to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no 
money with him, the whole he could muster 
having been expended in paying his passage. 
I had fifteen pistoles ; so he borrowed occasion- 
ally of me to subsist while he was looking out 
for business. He first endeavored to get into 
the playhouse, believing himself qualify'd for 
an actor, but Wilkes, to whom he apply' d, ad- 
62 



Early Life 

vis'd him candidly not to think of that employ- 
ment, as it was impossible he should succeed in 
it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a publisher 
in Paternoster Row, to write for him a weekly 
paper like the Spectator, on certain conditions, 
which Roberts did not approve. Then he en- 
deavored to get employment as a hackney 
writer, to copy for the stationers and lawyers 
about the Temple, but could find no vacancy. 

I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then 
a famous printing-house in Bartholomew Close, 
and here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty 
diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of 
my earnings in going to plays and other places 
of amusement. We had together consumed all 
my pistoles, and now just rubbed on from hand 
to mouth. He seem'd quite to forget his wife 
and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements 
with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more 
than one letter, and that was to let her know I 
was not likely soon to return. This was an- 
other of the great errata of my life, which I 
should wish to correct if I were to live it over 
again. In fact, by our expenses, I was con- 
stantly kept unable to pay my passage. 

At Palmer's I was employed in composing 
for the second edition of Wollaston's " Religion 
of Nature." Some of his reasonings not ap- 
pearing to me well founded, I wrote a little 
metaphysical piece in which I made remarks on 
them. It was entitled " Dissertation on Lib- 
erty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I in- 
63 



Benjamin Franklin 

scribed it to my friend Ralph ; I printed a 
small number. It occasion' d my being more 
consider' d by Mr. Palmer as a young man of 
some ingenuity, tho' he seriously expostulated 
with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, 
which to him appear 'd abominable. My print- 
ing this pamphlet was another erratum. While 
I lodg'd in Little Britain I made an acquaint- 
ance with one Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop 
was at the next door. He had an immense col- 
lection of second-hand books. Circulating 
libraries were not then in use ; but we agreed 
that, on certain reasonable terms, which I have 
now forgotten, I might take, read, and return 
any of his books. This I esteem 'd a great ad- 
vantage, and I made as much use of it as I 
could. 

My pamphlet by some means falling into the 
hands of one Lyons, a surgeon, author of a 
hook entitled ' * The Infallibility of Human 
Judgment,' ' it occasioned an acquaintance be- 
tween us. He took great notice of me, called 
on me often to converse on those subjects, car- 
ried me to the Horns, a pale ale house in 

Lane, Cheapside, and introduced me to Dr. 
Mandeville, author of the " Fable of the Bees," 
who had a club there, of which he was the soul, 
being a most facetious, entertaining compan- 
ion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pem- 
herton, at Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd 
to give me an opportunity, some time or other, 
of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I 
64 



Early Life 

was extremely desirous ; but this never hap- 
pened. 

I had brought over a few curiosities, among 
which the principal was a purse made of the 
asbestos, which purines by fire. Sir Hans 
Sloane heard of it, came to see me, and invited 
me to his house in Bloom sbury Square, where 
he show'd me all his curiosities, and persuaded 
me to let him add that to the number, for which 
he paid me handsomely. 

In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a 
milliner, who, I think, had a shop in the Clois- 
ters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensi- 
ble and lively, and of most pleasing conversa- 
tion. Ralph read plays to her in the evenings, 
they grew intimate, she took another lodging, 
and he followed her. They liv'd together some 
time ; but, he being still out of business, and 
her income not sufficient to maintain them, with 
her child, he took a resolution of going from 
London, to try for a country school, which he 
thought himself well qualified to undertake, as 
he wrote an excellent hand, and was a master 
of arithmetic and accounts. This, however, he 
deemed a business below him, and confident of 
future better fortune, when he should be un- 
willing to have it known that he once was so 
meanly employed, he changed his name, and 
did me the honor to assume mine ; for I soon 
after had a letter from him, acquainting me 
that he was settled in a small village (in Berk- 
Shire, I think it was, where he taught reading 
65 



Benjamin Franklin 

and writing to ten or a dozen boys, at sixpence 

each per week), recommending Mrs. T to 

my care, and desiring me to write to him, direct- 
ing for Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster, at such a 
place. 

He continued to write frequently, sending 
me large specimens of an epic poem which he 
was then composing, and desiring my remarks 
and corrections. These I gave him from time 
to time, but endeavor' d rather to discourage his 
proceeding. One of Young's Satires was then 
just published. I copy'd and sent him a great 
part of it, which set in a strong light the folly 
of pursuing the Muses with any hope of ad- 
vancement by them. All was in vain ; sheets 
of the poem continued to come by every post. 
In the meantime Mrs. T , having on his ac- 
count lost her friends and business, was often 
in distresses, and us'd to send for me, and bor- 
row what I could spare to help her out of them. 
I grew fond of her company, and, being at that 
time under no religious restraint, and presum- 
ing upon my importance to her, I attempted 
familiarities (another erratum), which she re- 
puls'd with a proper resentment, and acquainted 
him with my behaviour. This made a breach 
between us ; and, when he returned again to 
London, he let me know he thought I had can- 
cell' d all the obligations he had been under to 
me. So I found I was never to expect his re- 
paying me what I lent to him, or ad vane 'd for 
him. This, however, was not then of much 
66 



Early Life 

consequence, as he was totally unable ; and in 
the loss of his friendship I found myself re- 
lieved from a burthen. I now began to think 
of getting a little money beforehand, and, ex- 
pecting better work, I left Palmer's to work at 
Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still 
greater printing-house. Here I continued all 
the rest of my stay in London. 

At my first admission into this printing-house 
I took to working at press, imagining I felt a 
want of the bodily exercise I had been us'd to 
in America, where presswork is mix'd with 
composing. I drank only water ; the other 
workmen, near fifty in number, were great 
guzzlers of beer. On occasion, I carried up 
and down stairs a large form of types in each 
hand, when others carried but one in both 
hands. They wondered to see, from this and 
several instances, that the Water -American, 
as they called me, was stronger than them- 
selves, who drank strong beer ! We had an 
alehouse boy who attended always in the house 
to supply the workmen. My companion at the 
press drank every day a pint before breakfast, 
a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, 
a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at 
dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock, 
and another when he had done his day's work. 
I thought it a detestable custom ; but it was 
necessary, he suppos'd, to drink strong beer 
that he might be strong to labor. I endeav- 
ored to convince him that the bodily strength 
67 



Benjamin Franklin 

afforded by beer could only be in proportion to 
the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the 
water of which it was made ; that there was 
more flour in a pennyworth of bread ; and 
therefore, if he would eat that with a pint of 
water, it would give him more strength than a 
quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had 
four or five shillings to pay out of his wages 
every Saturday night for that muddling liquor ; 
an expense I was free from. And thus these 
poor devils keep themselves always under. 

Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have 
me in the composing-room, I left the press- 
men ; a new bien venu or sum for drink, being 
five shillings, was demanded of me by the com- 
positors. I thought it an imposition, as I had 
paid below ; the master thought so too, and 
forbad my paying it. I stood out two or three 
weeks, was accordingly considered as an ex- 
communicate, and had so many little pieces of 
private mischief done me, by mixing my sorts, 
transposing my pages, breaking my matter, 
etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, 
and all ascribed to the chapel ghost, which 
they said ever haunted those not regularly ad- 
mitted, that, notwithstanding the master's pro- 
tection, I found myself oblig'd to comply and 
pay the money, convinc'd of the folly of being 
on ill terms with those one is to live with con- 
tinually. 

I was now on a fair footing with them, 
and soon acquir'd considerable influence. I 
68 



Early Life 

propos'd some reasonable alterations in their 
chapel laws, and carried them against all oppo- 
sition. From my example, a great part of them 
left their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread, 
and cheese, finding they could with me be sup- 
ply' d from a neighboring house with a large 
porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with 
pepper, crumb 'd with bread, and a bit of butter 
in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz., three 
half-pence. This was a more comfortable as 
well as cheaper breakfast, and kept their heads 
clearer. Those who continued sotting with 
beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of 
credit at the alehouse, and us'd to make inter- 
est with me to get beer ; their light, as they 
phrased it, being out. I watch'd the pay-table 
on Saturday night, and collected what I stood 
engag'd for them, having to pay sometimes 
near thirty shillings a week on their accounts. 
This, and my being esteem' d a pretty good 
riggite, that is, a jocular verbal satirist, sup- 
ported my consequence in the society. My 
constant attendance (I never making a St. 
Monday) recommended me to the master ; and 
my uncommon quickness at composing occa- 
sioned my being put upon all work of dispatch, 
which was generally better paid. So I went 
on now very agreeably. 

My lodging in Little Britain being too re- 
mote, I found another in Duke-street, opposite 
to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of stairs 
backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow 
69 



Benjamin Franklin 

lady kept the house ; she had a daughter, and 
a maid servant, and a journeyman who attended 
the warehouse, butlodg'd abroad. After send- 
ing to inquire my character at the house where 
I last lodg'd she agreed to take me in at the 
same rate, 3s. 6d. per week ; cheaper, as she 
said, from the protection she expected in hav- 
ing a man lodge in the house. She was a wid- 
ow, an elderly woman ; had been bred a Prot- 
estant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was 
converted to the Catholic religion by her hus- 
band, whose memory she much revered ; had 
lived much among people of distinction, and 
knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far back 
as the time of Charles the Second. She was 
lame in her knees with the gout, and, therefore, 
seldom stirred out of her room, so sometimes 
wanted company ; and hers was so highly 
amusing to me, that I was sure to spend an 
evening with her whenever she desired it. Our 
supper was only half an anchovy each, 'on a 
very little strip of bread and butter, and half a 
pint of ale between us ; but the entertainment 
was in her conversation. My always keeping 
good hours, and giving little trouble in the 
family, made her unwilling to part with me ; so 
that, when I talk'd of a lodging I had heard of, 
nearer my business, for two shillings a week, 
which, intent as I now was on saving money, 
made some difference, she bid me not think of 
it, for she would abate me two shillings a week 
for the future ; so I remained with her at one 
7o 



Early Life 



shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in Lon- 
don. 

In a garret of her house there lived a maiden 
lady of seventy, in the most retired manner, of 
whom my landlady gave me this account : that 
she was a Roman Catholic, had been sent 
abroad when young, and lodg'd in a nunnery 
with an intent of becoming a nun ; but, the 
country not agreeing with her, she returned to 
England, where, there being no nunnery, she 
had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as 
might be done in those circumstances. Ac- 
cordingly, she had given all her estate to char- 
itable uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year 
to live on, and out of this sum she still gave a 
great deal in charity, living herself on water- 
gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. 
She had lived many years in that garret, being 
permitted to remain there gratis by successive 
Catholic tenants of the house below, as they 
deemed it a blessing to have her there. A 
priest visited her to confess her every day. 
" I have ask'd her," says my landlady, "how 
she, as she liv'd, could possibly find so much 
employment for a confessor. ' ' * ' Oh, ' ' said she, 
"it is impossible to avoid vain thoughts." I 
was permitted once to visit her. She was cheer- 
ful and polite, and convers'd pleasantly. The 
room was clean, but had no other furniture than 
a matras, a table with a crucifix and book, a 
stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture 
over the chimney of Saint Veronica displaying 
7i 



Benjamin Franklin 

her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of 
Christ's bleeding face on it, which she ex- 
plained to me with great seriousness. She 
look'd pale, but was never sick ; and I give it 
as another instance on how small an income, 
life and health may be supported. 

At Watts' s printing-house I contracted an 
acquaintance with an ingenious young man, 
one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, 
had been better educated than most printers ; 
was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and 
lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of 
his to swim at twice going into the river, and 
they soon became good swimmers. They in- 
troduc'd me to some gentlemen from the coun- 
try, who went to Chelsea by water to see the 
College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our 
return, at the request of the company, whose 
curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and 
leaped into the river, and swam from near 
Chelsea to Blackfriar's, performing on the way 
many feats of activity, both upon and under 
the water, that surpris'd and pleas'd those to 
whom they were novelties. 

I had from a child been ever delighted with 
this exercise, had studied and practis'd all 
Thevenot's motions and positions, added some 
of my own, aiming at the graceful and easy as 
well as the useful. All these I took this oc- 
casion of exhibiting to the company, and 
was much flatter 'd by their admiration ; and 
Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a mas- 
72 



Early Life 

ter, grew more and more attach' d to me on that 
account, as well as from the similarity of our 
studies. He at length proposed to me travel- 
ling all over Europe together, supporting our- 
selves everywhere by working at our business. 
I was once inclined to it ; but, mentioning it 
to my good friend, Mr. Denham, with whom I 
often spent an hour when I had leisure, he dis- 
suaded me from it, advising me to think only 
of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was 
now about to do. 

I must record one trait of this good man's 
character. He had formerly been in business 
at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of 
people, compounded and went to America. 
There, by a close application to business as a 
merchant, he acquir'd a plentiful fortune in a 
few years. Returning to England in the ship 
with me, he invited his old creditors to an en- 
tertainment, at which he thank 'd them for the 
easy composition they had favored him with, 
and, when they expected nothing but the treat, 
every man at the first remove found under his 
plate an order on a banker for the full amount 
of the unpaid remainder, with interest. 

He now told me he was about to return to 
Philadelphia, and should carry over a great 
quantity of goods, in order to open a store 
there. He propos'd to take me over as his 
clerk, to keep his books, in which he would 
instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the 
store. He added, that, as soon as I should be 
73 



Benjamin Franklin 

acquainted with mercantile business, he would 
promote me by sending me with a cargo of 
flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and 
procure me commissions from others which 
would be profitable ; and, if I manag'd well, 
would establish me handsomely. The thing 
pleas' d me ; for I was grown tired of London, 
remembered with pleasure the happy months I 
had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again 
to see it ; therefore I immediately agreed on 
the terms of fifty pounds a year, Pennsylvania 
money ; less, indeed, than my present gettings 
as a compositor, but affording a better prospect. 
I now took leave of printing, as I thought, 
for ever, and was daily employ 'd in my new 
business, going about with Mr. Denham among 
the tradesmen to purchase various articles, and 
seeing them pack'd up, doing errands, calling 
upon workmen to dispatch, etc.; and, when all 
was on board, I had a few days' leisure. On 
one of these days, I was, to my surprise, sent 
for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir 
William Wyndham, and I waited upon him. 
He had heard by some means or other of my 
swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of 
my teaching Wygate and another young man 
to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, 
about to set out on their travels ; he wish'd to 
have them first taught swimming, and proposed 
to gratify me handsomely if I would teach 
them. They were not yet come to town, and 
my stay was uncertain, so I could not under- 
take it ; but from this incident I thought it 
74 



Early Life 

likely that, if I were to remain in England and 
open a swimming-school, I might get a good 
deal of money ; and it struck me so strongly, 
that, had the overture been sooner made me, 
probably I should not so soon have returned to 
America. After many years, you and I had 
something of more importance to do with one 
of these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become 
Earl of Egremont, which I shall mention in its 
place. 

Thus I spent about eighteen months in Lon- 
don ; most part of the time I work'd hard at 
my business, and spent but little upon myself 
except in seeing plays and in books. My friend 
Ralph had kept me poor ; he owed me about 
twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never 
likely to receive ; a great sum out of my small 
earnings ! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for 
he had many amiable qualities. I had by no 
means improv'd my fortune ; but I had picked 
up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose 
conversation was of great advantage to me ; 
and I had read considerably. 

We sail' d from Gravesend on the 23d of July, 
1726. For the incidents of the voyage, I refer 
you to my Journal, where you will find them all 
minutely related. Perhaps the most important 
part of that journal is the fl/ an to be found in 
it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my 
future conduct in life. It is the more remark- 
able, as being formed when I was so young, 
and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite 
thro' old age. 

7.5 



Settling Down. 

A friendly correspondence as neighbors and 
old acquaintances had continued between me 
and Mr. Read's family, who all had a regard 
for me from the time of my first lodging in 
their house. I was often invited there and con- 
sulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was 
of service. I piti'd poor Miss Read's* unfortu- 
nate situation, who was generally dejected, 
seldom cheerful, and avoided company. I con- 
sidered my giddiness and inconstancy when in 
London as in a great degree the cause of her 
unhappiness, tho' the mother was good enough 
to think the fault more her own than mine, as 
she had prevented our marrying before I went 
thither, and persuaded the other match in my 
absence. Our mutual affection was revived, 
but there were now great objections to our 
union. The match was indeed looked upon as 
invalid, a preceding wife being said to be living 
in England ; but this could not easily be prov'd, 
because of the distance ; and, tho' there was a 
report of his death, it was not certain. Then, 
tho' it should be true, he had left many debts, 

* She had in the interval made an unhappy mar- 
riage, and was separated from her husband. 

76 



Settling Down 

which his successor might be call'd upon to 
pay. We ventured, however, over all these 
difficulties, and I took her to wife, September 
ist, 1730. None of the inconveniences hap- 
pened that we had apprehended ; she proved a 
good and faithful helpmate, assisted me much 
by attending shop ; we throve together, and 
have ever mutually endeavor 'd to make each 
other happy. Thus I corrected that great er- 
ratum as well as I could.* 

About this time, our club meeting, not at a 
tavern, but in a little room of Mr. Grace's, set 
apart for that purpose, a proposition was made 
by me, that, since our books were often referr'd 
to in our disquisitions upon the queries, it might 
be convenient to us to have them altogether 
where we met, that upon occasion they might 
be consulted ; and by thus clubbing our books 
to a common library, we should, while we lik'd 
to keep them together, have each of us the ad- 
vantage of using the books of all the other 
members, which would be nearly as beneficial 
as if each owned the whole. It was lik'd and 
agreed to, and we fill'd one end of the room 
with such books as we could best spare. The 
number was not so great as we expected ; and 
tho' they had been of great use, yet some in- 
conveniences occurring for want of due care of 
them, the collection, after about a year, was 
separated, and each took his books home again. 

* Mrs. Franklin survived her marriage over forty 
years. She died December ig, 1774. — Ed. 

77 



Benjamin Franklin 

And now I set on foot my first project of a 
public nature, that for a subscription library. 
I drew up the proposals, got them put into form 
by our great scrivener, Brockden, and, by the 
help of my friends in the Junto,* procured fifty 
subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with, 
and ten shillings a year for fifty years, the term 
our company was to continue. "We afterwards 
•obtain' d a charter, the company being increased 
to one hundred ; this was the mother of all the 
North American subscription libraries, now so 
numerous. It is become a great thing itself, 
and continually increasing. These libraries 
have improved the general conversation of the 
Americans, made the common tradesmen and 
farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from 
other countries, and perhaps have contributed 
in some degree to the stand so generally made 
throughout the colonies in defence of their 
privileges. 

At the time I establish' d myself in Pennsyl- 
vania, there was not a good bookseller's shop in 
any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. 
In New York and Philadelphia the printers 
were indeed stationers ; they sold only paper, 
etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few common 
school-books. Those who lov'd reading were 
oblig'd to send for their books from England ; 
the members of the Junto had each a few. We 

* A young men's club for mutual improvement, 

formed by Franklin. 



Settling Down 

had left the alehouse, where we first met, and 
hired a room to hold our club in. I propos'd 
that we should all of us bring our books to that 
room, where they would not only be ready to 
consult in our conferences, but become a com- 
mon benefit, each of us being at liberty to bor- 
row such as he wish'd to read at home. This 
was accordingly done, and for some time con- 
tented us. 

Finding the advantage of this little collec- 
tion, I propos'd to render the benefit from books 
more common, by commencing a public sub- 
scription library. I drew a sketch of the plan 
and rules that would be necessary, and got a 
skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockden, to 
put the whole in form of articles of agreement, 
to be subscribed, by which each subscriber en- 
gag' d to pay a certain sum down for the first 
purchase of books, and an annual contribution 
for increasing them. So few were the readers 
at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority 
of us so poor, that I was not able, with great 
industry, to find more than fifty persons, mostly 
young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this 
purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings 
per annum. On this little fund we began, 
The books were imported ; the library was 
opened one day in the week for lending to the 
subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay 
double the value if not duly returned. The in- 
stitution soon manifested its utility, was imi- 
tated by other towns, and in other provinces. 
79 



Benjamin Franklin 

The libraries were augmented by donations ; 
reading became fashionable ; and our people, 
having no public amusements to divert their 
attention from study, became better acquainted 
with books, and in a few years were observ'd 
by strangers to be better instructed and more 
intelligent than people of the same rank gen- 
erally are in other countries. 

When we were about to sign the above-men- 
tioned articles, which were to be binding on us, 
our heirs, etc., for fifty years, Mr. Brockden, 
the scrivener, said to us : ' ' You are young 
men, but it is scarcely probable that any of you 
will live to see the expiration of the term fix'd 
in the instrument." A number of us, however, 
are yet living ; but the instrument was after a 
few years rendered null by a charter that incor- 
porated and gave perpetuity to the company. 

The objections and reluctances I met with in 
soliciting the subscriptions, made me soon feel 
the impropriety of presenting one's self as the 
proposer of any useful project, that might be 
suppos'd to raise one's reputation in the small- 
est degree above that of one's neighbors, when 
one has need of their assistance to accomplish 
that project. I therefore put myself as much 
as I could out of sight, and stated it as a scheme 
of a number of friends, who had requested me 
to go about and propose it to such as they 
thought lovers of reading. In this way my 
affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after 
practis'd it on such occasions ; and, from my 
80 



Settling Down 

frequent successes, can heartily recommend it. 
The present little sacrifice of your vanity will 
afterwards be amply repaid. If it remains a 
while uncertain to whom the merit belongs, 
some one more vain than yourself will be en- 
couraged to claim it, and then even envy will 
be disposed to do you justice by plucking those 
assumed feathers, and restoring them to their 
right owner. 

This library afforded me the means of im- 
provement by constant study, for which I set 
apart an hour or two each day, and thus re- 
pair' d in some degree the loss of the learned 
education my father once intended for me. 
Reading was the only amusement I allow' d 
myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or 
frolics of any kind ; and my industry in my 
business continu'd as indefatigable as it was 
necessary. I was indebted for my printing- 
house ; I had a young family coming on to be 
educated, and I had to contend with for busi- 
ness two printers, who were established in the 
place before me. My circumstances, however, 
grew daily easier. My original habits of fru- 
gality continuing, and my father having, among 
his instructions to me when a boy, frequently 
repeated a proverb of Solomon, " Seest thou a 
man diligent in his calling, he shall stand be- 
fore kings, he shall not stand before mean 
men," I from thence considered industry as a 
means of obtaining wealth and distinction, 
which encourag'd me, tho' I did not think that 
81 



Benjamin Franklin 

I should ever literally stand before kings, 
which, however, has since happened ; for I 
have stood before fi ve, and even had the honor 
of sitting down with one, the King of Denmark, 
to dinner. 

We have an English proverb that says, ' ' He 
that would thrive, must ask his wife." It 
was lucky for me that I had one as much dis- 
pos'd to industry and frugality as myself. She 
assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding 
and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchas- 
ing old linen rags for the paper-makers, etc., 
etc. We kept no idle servants, our table was 
plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. 
For instance, my breakfast was a long time 
bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a 
twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter 
spoon. But mark how luxury will enter fami- 
lies, and make a progress, in spite of principle : 
being call'd one morning to breakfast, I found 
it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver ! 
They had been bought for me without my 
knowledge by my wife, and had cost her the 
enormous sum of three-and-twenty shillings, 
for which she had no other excuse or apology to 
make, but that she thought her husband de- 
serv'd a silver spoon and china bowl as well as 
any of his neighbors. This was the first ap- 
pearance of plate and china in our house, which 
afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth 
increas'd, augmented gradually to several hun- 
dred pounds in value. 

82 



Settling Down 

I had been religiously educated as a Presby- 
terian ; and tho' some of the dogmas of that 
persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of 
God, election, reprobation, etc., appeared to 
me unintelligible, others doubtful, and I early 
absented myself from the public assemblies of 
the sect, Sunday being my studying day, I 
never was without some religious principles. I 
never doubted, for instance, the existence of 
the Deity ; that he made the world, and gov- 
ern' d it by his Providence ; that the most ac- 
ceptable service of God was the doing good to 
man ; that our souls are immortal ; and that all 
crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded, 
either here or hereafter. These I esteem'd the 
essentials of every religion ; and, being to be 
found in all the religions we had in our coun- 
try, I respected them all, tho' with different de- 
grees of respect, as I found them more or less 
mix'd with other articles, which, without any 
tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm moral- 
ity, serv'd principally to divide us, and make 
us unfriendly to one another. This respect to 
all, with an opinion that the worst had some 
good effects, indue' d me to avoid all discourse 
that might tend to lessen the good opinion an- 
other might have of his own religion ; and as 
our province increas'd in people, and new places 
of worship were continually wanted, and gen- 
erally erected by voluntary contribution, my 
mite for such purpose, whatever might be the 
sect, was never refused. 
83 



Benjamin Franklin 

Tho' I seldom attended any public worship, 
I had still an opinion of its propriety, and of its 
utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly 
paid my annual subscription for the support of 
the only Presbyterian minister or meeting we 
had in Philadelphia. He us'd to visit me some- 
times as a friend, and admonish me to attend 
his administrations, and I was now and then 
prevail' d on to do so, once for five Sundays suc- 
cessively. Had he been in my opinion a good 
preacher, perhaps I might have continued, not- 
withstanding the occasion I had for the Sun- 
day's leisure in my course of study ; but his 
discourses were chiefly either polemic argu- 
ments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines 
of our sect, and were all to me very dry, -unin- 
teresting, and unedifying, since not a single 
moral principle was inculcated or enforc'd, their 
aim seeming to be rather to make us Presby- 
terians than good citizens. 

At length he took for his text that verse of 
the fourth chapter of Philippians : " Finally \ 
brethren, whatsoever things are true, honest, 
just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there 
be any virtue, or any praise, think on these 
things.' '* And I imagin'd, in a sermon on 
such a text, we could not miss of having some 
morality. But he confin'd himself to five points 
only, as meant by the apostle, viz.: i. Keeping 
holy the Sabbath day. 2. Being diligent in 
reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly 
the public worship. 4. Partaking of the Sac- 



Settling Down 

rament. 5. Paying a due respect to God's min- 
isters. These might be all good things ; but, 
as they were not the kind of good things that I 
expected from that text, I despaired of ever 
meeting with them from any other, was dis- 
gusted, and attended his preaching no more. 
I had some years before compos' d a little Lit- 
urgy, or form of prayer, for my own private 
use (viz., in 1728), entitled " Articles of Belief 
and Acts of Religion." I return 'd to the use 
of this, and went no more to the public assem- 
blies. My conduct might be blamable, but I 
leave it, without attempting further to excuse 
it ; my present purpose being to relate facts, 
and not to make apologies for them. 



85 



Rules of Conduct. 

It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold 
and arduous project of arriving at moral per- 
fection. I wish'd to live without committing 
any fault at any time ; I would conquer all that 
either natural inclination, custom, or company 
might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I 
knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see 
why I might not always do the one and avoid 
the other. But I soon found I had undertaken 
a task of more difficulty than I had imagined. 
While my care was employ 'd in guarding 
against one fault, I was often surprised by an- 
other ; habit took the advantage of inattention ; 
inclination was sometimes too strong for rea- 
son. I concluded, at length, that the mere 
speculative conviction that it was our interest 
to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient to 
prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary 
habits mast be broken, and good ones acquired 
and established, before we can have any de- 
pendence on a steady, uniform rectitude of con- 
duct. For this purpose I therefore contrived 
the following method. 

In the various enumerations of the moral vir- 
tues I had met with in my reading, I found the 
b6 



Rules of Conduct 

catalogue more or less numerous, as different 
writers included more or fewer ideas under the 
same name. Temperance, for example, was 
by some confined to eating and drinking, while 
by others it was extended to mean the moder- 
ating every other pleasure, appetite, inclina- 
tion, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our 
avarice and ambition. I propos'd to myself, 
for the sake of clearness, to use rather more 
names, with fewer ideas annex' d to each, than 
a few names with more ideas ; and I included 
under thirteen names of virtues all that at that 
time occurr'd to me as necessary or desirable, 
and annexed to each a short precept, which 
fully express' d the extent I gave to its meaning. 
These names of virtues, with their precepts, 
were : 

i. Temperance. 
Eat not to dullness ; drink not to elevation. 

2. Silence. 

Speak not but what may benefit others or 
yourself ; avoid trifling conversation. 

3. Order. 

Let all your things have their places ; let 
each part of your business have its time. 

4. Resolution. 

Resolve to perform what you ought ; perform 
without fail what you resolve. 

87 ' 



Benjamin Franklin 

5. Frugality. 

Make no expense but to do good to others or 
yourself ; i.e., waste nothing. 

6. Industry. 

Lose no time ; be always employ* d in some- 
thing useful ; cut off all unnecessary actions. 

7. Sincerity. 

Use no hurtful deceit ; think innocently and 
justly ; and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 

8. Justice. 

Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting 
the benefits that are your duty. 

9. Moderation. 

Avoid extremes ; forbear resenting injuries 
so much as you think they deserve. 

10. Cleanliness. 

Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or 
habitation. 

11. Tranquillity. 

Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents 
common or unavoidable. 

12. Chastity. 

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, 
never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of 
your own or another's peace or reputation. 
■8$ 



Rules of Conduct 

13. Humility. 

Imitate Jesus and Socrates. 

My intention being to acquire the habitude 
of all these virtues, I judg'd it would be well 
not to distract my attention by attempting the 
whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a 
time ; and, when I should be master of that, 
then to proceed to another, and so on, till I 
should have gone through the thirteen ; and, as 
the previous acquisition of some might facilitate 
the acquisition of certain others, I arrang'd 
them with that view, as they stand above. 
Temperance first, as it tends to procure that 
coolness and clearness of head, which is so nec- 
essary where constant vigilance was to be kept 
up, and guard maintained against the unremit- 
ting attraction of ancient habits, and the force 
of perpetual temptations. This being acquir'd 
and establish' d, Silence would be more easy ; 
and my desire being to gain knowledge at the 
same time that I improv'd in virtue, and con- 
sidering that in conversation it was obtain 'd 
rather by the use of the ears than of the tongue, 
and therefore wishing to break a habit I was 
getting into of prattling, punning, and joking, 
which only made me acceptable to trifling com- 
pany, I gave Silence the second place. This 
and the next, Order, I expected would allow 
me more time for attending to my project and 
my studies. Resolution, once become habit- 
ual, would keep me firm in my endeavors to ob- 
tain all the subsequent virtues ; Frugality and 
89 



Benjamin Franklin 

Industry, freeing me from my remaining debt, 
and producing affluence and independence, 
would make more easy the practice of Sincerity 
and Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that, 
agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras in his 
Golden Verses, daily examination would be 
necessary, I contrived the following method 
for conducting that examination. 

I made a little book, in which I allotted a 
page for each of the virtues. I rul'd each page 
with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one 
for each day of the week, marking each column 
with a letter for the day. I cross' d these col- 
umns with thirteen red lines, marking the be- 
ginning of each line with the first letter of one 
of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper 
column, I might mark, by a little black spot, 
every fault I found upon examination to have 
been committed respecting that virtue upon 
that day. 

I determined to give a week's strict attention 
to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the 
first week, my great guard was to avoid every 
the least offence agaist Temperance, leaving 
the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only 
marking every evening the faults of the day. 
Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first 
line, marked T, clear of spots, I suppos'd the 
habit of that virtue so much strengthen 'd, and 
its opposite weaken 'd, that I might venture ex- 
tending my attention to include the next, and 
for the following week keep both lines clear of 
90 



Rules of Conduct 



Form of the Pages. 



TEMPERANCE. 


EAT NOT TO DULNESS ; 
DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. 




S. 


M. 


T. 


W. 


T. 


F. 


S. 


T. 
















s. 


* 


* 




* 




* 




o. 


** 


* 


* 




* 


* 


* 


R. 






* 






* 




F. 




* 






* 






I. 






* 










S. 
















J. 
















M. 
















C. 
















T. 
















C. 
















H. 

















spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go 
thro' a course complete in thirteen weeks, and 
four courses in a year. And like him who, 
having a garden to weed, does not attempt to 
eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would 
exceed his reach and his strength, but works 
9i 



Benjamin Franklin 

on one of the beds at a time, and, having ac- 
complish' d the first, proceeds to a second, so I 
should have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure 
of seeing on my pages the progress I made in 
virtue, by clearing successively my lines of 
their spots, till in the end, by a number of 
courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean 
book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination. 
This my little book had for its motto these 
lines from Addison's Cato : 

" Here will I hold. If ther 's a power above us 
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
Thro' all her works), He must delight in virtue ; 
And that which he delights in must be happy." 

Another from Cicero : 

u O vitae Philosophia dux ! O virtutum indagatrix 
expultrixque vitiorum! Unus dies, bene et ex praeceptis 
tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati est anteponendus." 

Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, 
speaking of wisdom or virtue : 

" Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left 
hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleas- 
antness, and all her paths are peace." iii. 16, 17. 

And conceiving God to be the fountain of 
wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to 
solicit his assistance for obtaining it ; to this 
end I formed the following little prayer, which 
was prefix' d to my tables of examination, for 
daily use : 

" O powerful Goodness / bountiful Father / merciful 

Guide I Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my 

truest interest. Strengthen my resolutions to perform 

-what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to 

92 



Rules of Conduct 



thy other children as the only return in my $ower for 
thy continual favours to me. 

I used also sometimes a little prayer which I 
took from Thomson's Poems, viz. : 

" Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! 
O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself ! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit ; and fill my soul 
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss !" 

The precept of Order requiring that every 
part of my business should have its allotted 
time, one page in my little book contain' d the 
following scheme of employment for the 
twenty-four hours of a natural day. 

The Morning. f 5I Rise, wash, and address 
Question. What good | 6 | Powerful Goodness / Con- 
shall I do this day ? j strive day's business, and 
1 [take the resolution of the 
7 day ; prosecute the present 
I J study, and breakfast. 

81 

9 [ Work. 
10 1 

TlJ 

j 12 ) Read, or overlook my ac- 
\ 1 f counts, and dine. 

»i 

3 I Work. 



Noon. 



Evening. 
Question. What good 
have I done to-day ? 



Night. 



Put things in their places. 
Supper. Music or diversion, 
' or conversation. Examina- 
9 J tion of the day. 



1 \ Sleep 
a 

93 



Benjamin Franklin 

I enter' d upon the execution of this plan for 
self-examination, and continu'd it with occa- 
sional intermissions for some time. I was - sur- 
pris'd to find myself so much fuller of faults 
than I had imagined ; but I had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing them diminish. To avoid the 
trouble of renewing now and then my little 
book, which, by scraping out the marks on the 
paper of old faults to make room for new ones 
in a new course, became full of holes, I trans- 
fer^ d my tables and precepts to the ivory leaves 
of a memorandum book, on which the lines 
were drawn with red ink, that made a durable 
stain, and on those lines I mark'd my faults 
with a black-lead pencil, which marks I could 
easily wipe out with a wet sponge. After a 
while I went thro' one course only in a year, 
and afterward only one in several years, till at 
length I omitted them entirely, being employ' d 
in voyages and business abroad, with a multi- 
plicity of affairs that interfered ; but I always 
carried my little book with me. 

My scheme of Order gave me the most 
trouble ; and I found that, tho' it might be 
practicable where a man's business was such as 
to leave him the disposition of his time, that of 
a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not 
possible to be exactly observed by a master, 
who must mix with the world, and often receive 
" people of business at their own hours. Order \ 
too, with regard to places for things, papers, 
etc., I found extremely difficult to acquire. I 
94 



Rules of Conduct 

had not been early accustomed to it, and, hav- 
ing an exceeding good memory, I was not so 
sensible of the inconvenience attending want 
of method. This article, therefore, cost me so 
much painful attention, and my faults in it 
vexed me so much, and I made so little progress 
in amendment, and had such frequent relapses, 
that I was almost ready to give up the attempt, 
and content myself with a faulty character in 
that respect, like the man who, in buying an ax 
of a smith, my neighbor, desired to have the 
whole of its surface as bright as the edge. The 
smith consented to grind it bright for him if 
he would turn the wheel ; he turn'd, while the 
smith press' d the broad face of the ax hard and 
heavily on the stone, which made the turning 
of it very fatiguing. The man came every now 
and then from the wheel to see how the work 
went on, and at length would take his ax as it 
was, without farther grinding. " No," said the 
smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it 
bright by-and-by ; as yet, it is only speckled." 
" Yes," says the man, " but I think I like a 
speckled ax best.'" And I believe this may 
have been the case with many, who, having, 
for want of some such means as I employ' d, 
found the difficulty of obtaining good and 
breaking bad habits in other points of vice and 
virtue, have given up the struggle, and con- 
cluded that " a speckled ax was besf ; For 
something, that pretended to be reason, was 
every now and then suggesting to me that such 
95 



Benjamin Franklin 

extreme nicety as I exacted of myself might be 
a kind of foppery in morals, which, if it were 
known, would make me ridiculous ; that a per- 
fect character might be attended with the in- 
convenience of being envied and hated ; and 
that a benevolent man should allow a few faults 
in himself, to keep his friends in countenance. 

In truth, I found myself incorrigible with re- 
spect to order ; and now I am grown old, and 
my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want 
of it. But, on the whole, tho' I never arrived 
at the perfection I had been so ambitious of ob- 
taining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by 
the endeavour, a better and a happier man than 
I otherwise should have been if I had not at- 
tempted it ; as those who aim at perfect writing 
by imitating the engraved copies, tho* they 
never reach the wish'd-for excellence of those 
copies, their hand is mended by the endeavour, 
and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible* 

It may be well my posterity should be in- 
formed that to this little artifice, with the bless- 
ing of God, their ancestor ow'd the constant 
felicity of his life, down to his 79th year, in 
which this is written. What reverses may at- 
tend the remainder is in the hand of Provi- 
dence ; but, if they arrive, the reflection on 
past happiness enjoy' d ought to help his bear- 
ing them with more resignation. To Temper- 
ance he ascribes his long-continued health, and 
what is still left to him of a good constitution ; 
to Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of 
96 



Rules of Conduct 

his circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, 
with all that knowledge that enabled him to be 
a useful citizen, and obtained for him some de- 
gree of reputation among the learned ; to Sin- 
cerity and Justice, the confidence of his coun- 
try, and the honorable employs it conferred 
upon him ; and to the joint influence of the 
whole mass of the virtues, even in the imper- 
fect state he was able to acquire them, all that 
evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in 
conversation, which makes his company still 
sought for, and agreeable even to his younger 
acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that some of 
my descendants may follow the example and 
reap the benefit. 

It will be remark' d that, tho' my scheme was 
not wholly without religion, there was in it no 
mark of any of the distinguishing tenets of any 
particular sect. I had purposely avoided them ; 
for, being fully persuaded of the utility and ex- 
cellency of my method, and that it might be 
serviceable to people in all religions, and in- 
tending some time or other to publish it, I 
would not have any thing in it that should prej- 
udice any one, of any sect, against it. I pur- 
posed writing a little comment on each virtue, 
in which I would have shown the advantages 
of possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its 
opposite vice ; and I should have called my 
book " The Art of Virtue,"* because it would 

* Nothing so likely to make a man's fortune as virtue. 
— [Marg. note.] 

97 



Benjamin Franklin 

have shown the means and manner of obtain- 
ing virtue, which would have distinguished it 
from the mere exhortation to be good, that does 
not instruct and indicate the means, but is like 
the apostle's man of verbal charity, who only 
without showing to the naked and hungry how 
or where they might get clothes or victuals, ex- 
horted them to be fed and clothed — James ii. 
15, 16. 

But it so 'happened that my intention of writ- 
ing and publishing this comment was never 
fulfilled. I did, indeed, from time to time, put 
down short hints of the sentiments, reasonings, 
etc., to be made use of in it, some of which I 
have still by me ; but the necessary close atten- 
tion to private business in the earlier part of 
my life, and public business since, have occa- 
sioned my postponing it ; for, it being con- 
nected in my mind with a great and extensive 
project, that required the whole man to exe- 
cute, and which an unforeseen succession of 
employs prevented my attending to, it has hith- 
erto remain'd unfinish'd. 

In this piece it was my design to explain and 
enforce this doctrine, that vicious actions are 
not hurtful because they are forbidden, but for- 
bidden because they are hurtful, the nature of 
man alone considered ; that it was, therefore, 
every one's interest to be virtuous who wish'd 
to be happy even in this world ; and I should, 
from this circumstance (there being always in 
the world a number of rich merchants, nobility, 
98 



Rules of Conduct 

states, and princes, who have need of honest 
instruments for the management of their affairs, 
and such being so rare), have endeavored to 
convince young persons that no qualities were 
so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those 
of probity and integrity. 

My list of virtues contain' d at first but twelve ; 
but a Quaker friend having kindly informed 
me that I was generally thought proud ; that 
my pride show'd itself frequently in conversa- 
tion ; that I was not content with being in the 
right when discussing any point, but was over- 
bearing, and rather insolent, of which he con- 
vine' d me by mentioning several instances ; I 
determined endeavouring to cure myself, if I 
could, of this vice or folly among the rest, and 
I added Humility to my list, giving an exten- 
sive meaning to the word, 

I cannot boast of much success in acquiring 
the reality of this virtue, but I had a good deal 
with regard to the appearance of it. I made 
it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to 
the sentiments of others, and all positive asser- 
tion of my own. I even forbid myself, agree- 
ably to the old laws of our Junto, the use of 
every word or expression in the language that 
imported a fix'd opinion, such as certainly, un- 
doubtedly, etc., and I adopted, instead of them, 
I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing 
to be so or so ; or it so appears to me at pres- 
ent. When another asserted something that I 
thought an error, I deny'd myself the pleasure 
99 



Benjamin Franklin 

of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing 
immediately some absurdity in his proposition ; 
and in answering I began by observing that in 
certain cases or circumstances his opinion would 
be right, but in the present case there appeared 
or seem'd to me some difference, etc. I soon 
found the advantage of this change in my man- 
ner ; the conversations I engag'd in went on 
more pleasantly. The modest way in which I 
propos'd my opinions procur'd them a readier 
reception and less contradiction ; I had less 
mortification when I was found to be in the 
wrong, and I more easily prevail' d with others 
to give up their mistakes and join with me 
when I happened to be in the right. 

And this mode, which I at first put on with 
some violence to natural inclination, became at 
length so easy, and so habitual to me, that per- 
haps for these fifty years past no one has ever 
heard a dogmatical expression escape me. And 
to this habit (after my character of integrity) I 
think it principally owing that I had early so 
much weight with my fellow-citizens when I 
proposed new institutions, or alterations in the 
old, and so much influence in public councils 
when I became a member ; for I was but a bad 
speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesi- 
tation in my choice of words, hardly correct in 
language, and yet I generally carried my points. 

In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our 
natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. 
Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle 
ioo 



Rules of Conduct 

it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still 
alive, and will every now and then peep out 
and show himself ; you will see it, perhaps, 
often in this history ; for, even if I could con- 
ceive that I had completely overcome it, I 
should probably be proud of my humility. 

[Thus far written at Passy, 1784.] 



101 



Public Affairs. 

My first promotion was my being chosen, in 
1736, clerk of the General Assembly. The 
choice was made that year without opposition ; 
but the year following, when I was again pro- 
pos'd (the choice, like that of the members, 
being annual), a new member made a long 
speech against me, in order to favour some 
other candidate. I was, however, chosen, 
which was the more agreeable to me, as, be- 
sides the pay for the immediate service as clerk, 
the place gave me a better opportunity of keep- 
ing up an interest among the members, which 
secur'd to me the business of printing the votes, 
laws, paper money, and other occasional jobs 
for the public, that, on the whole, were very 
profitable. 

I therefore did not like the opposition of this 
new member, who was a gentleman of fortune 
and education „ with talents that were likely to 
give him, in time, great influence in the House, 
which, indeed, afterwards happened. I did 
not, however, aim at gaining his favour by pay- 
ing any servile respect to him, but, after some 
time, took this other method. Having heard 
that he had in his library a certain very scarce 
102 



Public Affairs 

and curious book, I wrote a note to him, ex- 
pressing my desire of perusing that book, and 
requesting he would do me the favour of lend- 
ing it to me for a few days. He sent it imme- 
diately, and I return' d it in about a week with 
another note, expressing strongly my sense of 
the favour. When we next met in the House, 
he spoke to me (which he had never done be- 
fore), and with great civility ; and he ever after 
manifested a readiness to serve me on all occa- 
sions, so that we became great friends, and our 
friendship continued to his death. This is an- 
other instance of the truth of an old maxim I 
had learned, which says: " He that has once 
done you a kindness will be more ready to do 
you another, than he whom you yourself have 
obliged. ' ' And it shows how much more profit- 
able it is prudently to remove, than to resent, 
return, and continue inimical proceedings. 

In 1737, Colonel Spotswood, late governor of 
Virginia, and then postmaster-general, being 
dissatisfied with the conduct of his deputy at 
Philadelphia, respecting some negligence in 
rendering, and inexactitude of his accounts, 
took from him the commission and offered it to 
me. I accepted it readily, and found it of great 
advantage ; for, tho' the salary was small, it 
facilitated the correspondence that improv'd 
my newspaper, increas'd the number demand- 
ed, as well as the advertisements to be inserted, 
so that it came to afford me a considerable in- 
come. My old competitor's newspaper declin'd 
103 



Benjamin Franklin 

proportionately, and I was satisfy' d without re- 
taliating his refusal, while postmaster, to per- 
mit my papers being carried by the riders. 
Thus he suffer' d greatly from his neglect in due 
accounting ; and I mention it as a lesson to 
those young men who may be employ' d in 
managing affairs for others, that they should 
always render accounts, and make remittances, 
with great clearness and punctuality. The 
character of observing such a conduct is the 
most powerful of all recommendations to new 
employments and increase of business. 

I began now to turn my thoughts a little to 
public affairs, beginning, however, with small 
matters. The city watch was one of the first 
things that I conceiv'd to want regulation. It 
was managed by the constables of the respec- 
tive wards in turn ; the constable warned a 
number of housekeepers to attend him for the 
night. Those who chose never to attend, paid 
him six shillings a year to be excus'd, which 
was suppos'd to be for hiring substitutes, but 
was, in reality, much more than was necessary 
for that purpose, and made the constableship a 
place of profit ; and the constable, for a little 
drink, often got such ragamuffins about him as 
a watch, that respectable housekeepers did not 
choose to mix with. Walking the rounds, too, 
was often neglected, and most of the nights 
spent in tippling. I thereupon wrote a paper 
to be read in Junto, representing these irregu- 
larities, but insisting more particularly on the 
104 



Public Affairs 

inequality of this six-shilling tax of the consta- 
bles, respecting the circumstances of those who 
paid it, since, a poor widow housekeeper, all 
whose property to be guarded by the watch did 
not perhaps exceed the value of fifty pounds, 
paid as much as the wealthiest merchant, who 
had thousands of pounds' worth of goods in his 
stores. 

On the whole, I proposed as a more effectual 
watch, the hiring of proper men to serve con- 
stantly in that business ; and as a more equita- 
ble way of supporting the charge, the levying 
a tax that should be proportion 'd to the prop- 
erty. This idea, being approv'd by the Junto, 
was communicated to the other clubs, but as 
arising in each of them ; and though the plan 
was not immediately carried into execution, 
yet, by preparing the minds of people for the 
change, it paved the way for the law obtained 
a few years after, when the members of our 
clubs were grown into more influence. 

About this time I wrote a paper (first to be 
read in Junto, but it was afterward publish'd) 
on the different accidents and carelessnesses 
by which houses were set on fire, with cautions 
against them, and means proposed of avoiding 
them. This was much spoken of as a useful 
piece, and gave rise to a project, which soon 
followed it, of forming a company for the more 
ready extinguishing of fires, and mutual assist- 
ance in removing and securing of goods when 
in danger. Associates in this scheme were 
105 



Benjamin Franklin 

presently found, amounting to thirty. Our 
articles of agreement oblig'd every member to 
keep always in good order, and fit for use, a 
certain number of leather buckets, with strong 
bags and baskets (for packing and transporting 
of goods), which were to be brought to every 
fire ; and we agreed to meet once a month and 
spend a social evening together, in discoursing 
and communicating such ideas as occurred to 
us upon the subject of fires, as might be useful 
in our conduct on such occasions. 

The utility of this institution soon appeared, 
and many more desiring to be admitted than 
we thought convenient for one company, they 
were advised to form another, which was ac- 
cordingly done ; and this went on, one new 
company being formed after another, till they 
became so numerous as to include most of the 
inhabitants who were men of property ; and 
now, at the time of my writing this, tho* up- 
ward of fifty years since its establishment, that 
which I first formed, called the Union Fire 
Company, still subsists and flourishes, tho' the 
first members are all deceas'd but myself and 
one, who is older by a year than I am. The 
small fines that have been paid by members for 
absence at the monthly meetings have been ap- 
ply'd to the purchase of fire-engines, ladders, 
fire-hooks, and other useful implements for each 
company, so that I question whether there is a 
city in the world better provided with the 
means of putting a stop to beginning conflagra- 
106 



Public Affairs 

tions ; and, in fact, since these institutions, the 
city has never lost by fire more than one or two 
houses at a time, and the flames have often 
been extinguished before the house in which 
they began has been half consumed. 



TQ7 



George Whitefield. 

In 1739 arrived among us from Ireland the 
Reverend Mr. Whitefield, who had made him- 
self remarkable there as an itinerant preacher. 
He was at first permitted to preach in some of 
our churches ; but the clergy, taking a dislike 
to him, soon refus'd him their pulpits, and he 
was oblig'd to preach in the fields. The multi- 
tudes of all sects and denominations that at- 
tended his sermons were enormous, and it was 
matter of speculation to me, who was one of 
the number, to observe the extraordinary influ- 
ence of his oratory on his hearers, and how 
much they admir'd and respected him, notwith- 
standing his common abuse of them, by assur- 
ing them they were naturally half beasts and 
half devils. It was wonderful to see the 
change soon made in the manners of our in- 
habitants. From being thoughtless or indiffer- 
ent about religion, it seem'd as if all the world 
were growing religious, so that one could not 
walk thro' the town in an evening without 
hearing psalms sung in different families of 
every street. 

And it being found inconvenient to assemble 
in the open air, subject to its inclemencies, the 

168 



George Whitefield 

building of a house to meet in was no sooner 
propos'd, and persons appointed to receive con- 
tributions, but sufficient sums were soon re- 
ceiv'd to procure the ground and erect the 
building, which was one hundred feet long and 
seventy broad, about the size of Westminster 
Hall ; and the work was carried on with such 
spirit as to be finished in a much shorter time 
than could have been expected. Both house 
and ground were vested in trustees, expressly; 
for the use of any preacher of any religious per- 
suasion who might desire to say something to 
the people of Philadelphia ; the design in build- 
ing not being to accommodate any particular 
sect, but the inhabitants in general ; so that 
even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to 
send a missionary to preach Mohammedanism 
to us, he would find a pulpit at his service. 

Mr. Whitefield, in leaving us, went preach- 
ing all the way thro' the colonies to Georgia. 
The settlement of that province had lately been 
begun, but, instead of being made with hardy, 
industrious husbandmen, accustomed to labor, 
the only people fit for such an enterprise, it 
was with families of broken shop-keepers and 
other insolvent debtors, many of indolent and 
idle habits, taken out of the jails, who, being 
set down in the woods, unqualified for clearing 
land, and unable to endure the hardships of a 
new settlement, perished in numbers, leaving 
many helpless children unprovided for. The 
sight of their miserable situation inspir'd the 
109 



Benjamin Franklin 

benevolent heart of Mr. Whitefield with the 
idea of building an Orphan House there, in 
which they might be supported and educated. 
Returning northward, he preach' d up this char- 
ity, and made large collections, for his elo- 
quence had a wonderful power over the hearts 
and purses of his hearers, of which I myself 
was an instance. 

I did not disapprove of the design, but, as 
Georgia was then destitute of materials and 
workmen, and it was proposed to send them 
from Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought 
it would have been better to have built the 
house here, and brought the children to it. 
This I advis'd ; but he was resolute in his first 
project, rejected my counsel, and I therefore 
refus'd to contribute. I happened soon after 
to attend one of his sermons, in the course of 
which I perceived he intended to finish with a 
collection, and I silently resolved he should get 
nothing from me. I had in my pocket a hand- 
ful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, 
and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded I 
began to soften, and concluded to give the cop- 
pers. Another stroke of his oratory made me 
asham'd of that, and determin'd me to give the 
silver ; and he finish' d so admirably, that I 
empty'd my pocket wholly into the collector's 
disn, gold and all. At this sermon there was 
also one of our club, who, being of my senti- 
ments respecting the building in Georgia, and 
suspecting a collection might be intended, had, 



George Whitefield 

"by precaution, emptied his pockets before he 
came from home. Towards the conclusion of 
the discourse, however, he felt a strong desire 
to give, and apply 'd to a neighbour, who stood 
near him, to borrow some money for the 
purpose. The application was unfortunately 
[made] to perhaps the only man in the com- 
pany who had the firmness not to be affected 
by the preacher. His answer was: "At any 
other time, Friend Hopkinson, I would lend 
to thee freely ; but not now ', for thee see?ns to 
be out of thy right senses." 

Some of Mr. Whitefield's enemies affected to 
suppose that he would apply these collections to 
his own private emolument ; but I, who was 
intimately acquainted with him (being employed 
in printing his Sermons and Journals, etc.), 
never had the least suspicion of his integrity, 
but am to this day decidedly of opinion that he 
was in all his conduct a perfectly honest man ; 
and methinks my testimony in his favour ought 
to have the more weight, as we had no relig- 
ious connection. He us'd, indeed, sometimes 
to pray for my conversion, but he never had 
the satisfaction of believing that his prayers 
were heard. Ours was a mere civil friendship, 
sincere on both sides, and lasted to his death. 

The following instance will show something 
of the terms on which we stood. Upon one of 
his arrivals from England at Boston, he wrote 
to me that he should come soon to Philadelphia, 
but knew not where he could lodge when there, 
in 



Benjamin Franklin 

as he understood his old friend and host, Mr. 
Benezet, was removed to Germantown. My 
answer was : ' ' You know my house ; if you 
can make shift with its scanty accommodations, 
you will be most heartily welcome." He re- 
ply 'd, that if I made that kind offer for Christ's 
sake, I should not miss of a reward. And I re- 
turned : " Don't let me be mistaken ; it was 
not for Christ's sake, but for your own sake." 
One of our common acquaintance jocosely re- 
mark' d, that, knowing it to be the custom of 
the saints, when they received any favour, to 
shift the burden of the obligation from off their 
own shoulders, and place it in heaven, I had 
contriv'd to fix it on earth. 

The last time I saw Mr. Whitefield was in 
London, when he consulted me about his Or- 
phan House concern, and his purpose of appro- 
priating it to the establishment of a college. 

He had a loud and clear voice, and articu- 
lated his words and sentences so perfectly, that 
he might be heard and understood at a great 
distance, especially as his auditors, however 
numerous, observ'd the most exact silence. 
He preach 'd one evening from the top of the 
Court-house steps, which are in the middle of 
Market-street, and on the west side of Second- 
street, which crosses it at right angles. Both 
streets were fill'd with his hearers to a consid- 
erable distance. Being among the hindmost 
in Market-street, I had the curiosity to learn 
how far he could be heard, by retiring back- 
112 



George Whitefield 

wards down the street towards the river ; and 
I found his voice distinct till I came near Front- 
street, when some noise in that street obscur'd 
it. Imagining then a semicircle, of which my 
distance should be the radius, and that it were 
fill'd with auditors, to each of whom I allow'd 
two square feet, I computed that he might well 
be heard by more than thirty thousand. This 
reconcird me to the newspaper accounts of his 
having preach 'd to twenty-five thousand people 
in the fields, and to the antient histories of gen- 
erals haranguing whole armies, of which I had 
sometimes doubted. 

By hearing him often, I could distinguish 
easily between sermons newly compos'd, and 
those which he had often preach 'd in the course 
of his travels. His delivery of the latter was 
so improv'd by frequent repetitions that every 
accent, every emphasis, every modulation of 
voice, was so perfectly well turn'd and well 
plac'd, that, without being interested in the 
subject, one could not help being pleas'd with 
the discourse ; a pleasure of much the same 
kind with that receiv'd from an excellent piece 
of musick. This is an advantage itinerant 
preachers have over those who are stationary, 
as the latter cannot well improve their delivery 
of a sermon by so many rehearsals. 

His writing and printing from time to time 
gave great advantage to his enemies ; un- 
guarded expressions, and even erroneous opin- 
ions, delivered in preaching, might have been 
313 



Benjamin Franklin 

afterwards explain 'd or qualified by supposing 
others that might have accompani'd them, or 
they might have been denyM ; but liter a 
scripta manet. Critics attack'd his writings 
violently, and with so much appearance of rea- 
son as to diminish the number of his votaries 
and prevent their encrease ; so that I am of 
opinion if he had never written anything, he 
would have left behind him a much more nu- 
merous and important sect, and his reputation 
might in that case have been still growing, 
even after his death, as there being nothing of 
his writing on which to found a censure and 
give him a lower character, his proselytes would 
be left at liberty to feign for him as great a 
variety of excellences as their enthusiastic ad- 
miration might wish him to have possessed. 



X14 



The Franklin Stove. 

In order of time, I should have mentioned 
before, that having, in 1742, invented an open 
stove for the better warming of rooms, and at 
the same time saving fuel, as the fresh air ad- 
mitted was warmed in entering, I made a pres- 
ent of the model to Mr. Robert Grace, one of 
my early friends, who, having an iron-furnace, 
found the casting of the plates for these stoves 
a profitable thing, as they were growing in de- 
mand. To promote that demand, I wrote and 
published a pamphlet, entitled " An Account of 
the new-invented Pennsylvania Fireplaces ; 
wherein their Construction and Manner of 
Operation is particularly explained ; their 
Advantages above every other Method of 
warming Rooms demonstrated ; and all Ob- 
jections that have been raised against the 
Use of than answered and obviated" etc. 
This pamphlet had a good effect. Gov'r. 
Thomas was so pleas' d with the construction of 
this stove, as described in it, that he offered to 
give me a patent for the sole vending of them 
for a term of years ; but I declin'd it from a 
principle which has ever weighed with me on 
such occasions, viz., That, as we enjoy great 
115 



Benjamin Franklin 

advantages from the inventions of others ', 
<we should be glad of an opportunity to serve 
others by any invention of ours ; and this we 
should do freely and generously. 

An ironmonger in London, however, assum- 
ing a good deal of my pamphlet, and working 
it up into his own, and making some small 
changes in the machine, which rather hurt its 
operation, got a patent for it there, and made, 
as I was told, a little fortune by it. And this 
is not the only instance of patents taken out for 
my inventions by others, tho' not always with 
the same success, which I never contested, as 
having no desire of profiting by patents myself, 
and hating disputes. The use of these fire- 
places in very many houses, both of this and 
the neighboring colonies, has been, and is, a 
.great saving of wood to the inhabitants. 



116 



Civic Pride. 

Our city, tho' laid out with a beautifull regu- 
larity, the streets large, strait, and crossing 
each other at right angles, had the disgrace of 
suffering those streets to remain long unpav'd, 
and in wet weather the wheels of heavy car- 
riages plough'd them into a quagmire, so that 
it was difficult to cross them ; and in dry 
weather the dust was offensive. I had liv'd 
near what was call'd the Jersey Market, and 
saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud 
while purchasing their provisions. A strip of 
ground down the middle of that market was at 
length pav'd with brick, so that, being once in 
the market, they had firm footing, but were 
often over shoes in dirt to get there. By talk- 
ing and writing on the subject, I was at length 
instrumental in getting the street pav'd with 
stone between the market and the brick' d foot- 
pavement, that was on each side next the 
houses. This, for some time, gave an easy ac- 
cess to the market dry-shod ; but, the rest of 
the street not being pav'd, whenever a carriage 
came out of the mud upon this pavement, it 
shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was 
soon cover'd with mire, which was not remov'd, 
the city as yet having no scavengers. 
117 



Benjamin Franklin 

After some inquiry, I found a poor, industri- 
ous man, who was willing to undertake keep- 
ing the pavement clean, by sweeping it twice 
a week, earring off the dirt from before all the 
neighbours' doors, for the sum of sixpence per 
month, to be paid by each house. I then wrote 
and printed a paper setting forth the advan- 
tages to the neighbourhood that might be ob- 
tain' d by this small expense ; the greater ease 
in keeping our houses clean, so much dirt not 
being brought in by people's feet ; the benefit 
to the shops by more custom, etc., etc., as buy- 
ers could more easily get at them ; and by not 
having, in windy weather, the dust blown in 
upon their goods, etc., etc. I sent one of these 
papers to each house, and in a day or two went 
round to see who would subscribe an agree- 
ment to pay these sixpences ; it was unani- 
mously sign'd, and for a time well executed. 
All the inhabitants of the city were delighted 
with the cleanliness of the pavement that sur- 
rounded the market, it being a convenience to 
all, and this rais'd a general desire to have all 
the streets paved, and made the people more 
willing to submit to a tax for that purpose. 

After some time I drew a bill for paving the 
city, and brought it into the Assembly. It was 
just before I went to England, in 1757, and did 
not pass till I was gone,* and then with an al- 
teration in the mode of assessment, which I 
thought not for the better, but with an addi- 
* See votes. — [Marg. note.] 
118 



Civic Pride 

tional provision for lighting as well as paving 
the streets, which was a great improvement. 
It was by a private person, the late Mr. John 
Clifton, his giving a sample of the utility of 
lamps, by placing one at his door, that the peo- 
ple were first impressed with the idea of enlight- 
ing all the city. The honour of this public 
benefit has also been ascrib'd to me, but it be- 
longs truly to that gentleman. I did but fol- 
low his example, and have only some merit to 
claim respecting the form of our lamps, as dif- 
fering from the globe lamps we were at first 
supply' d with from London. Those we found 
inconvenient in these respects : they admitted 
no air beiow ; the smoke, therefore, did not 
readily go out above, but circulated in the 
globe, lodg'd on its inside, and soon obstructed 
the light they were intended to afford ; giving, 
besides, the daily trouble of wiping them clean ; 
and an accidental stroke on one of them would 
demolish it, and render it totally useless. I 
therefore suggested the composing them of 
four flat panes, with a long funnel above to 
draw up the smoke, and crevices admitting air 
below, to facilitate the ascent of the smoke ; 
by this means they were kept clean, and did 
not grow dark in a few hours, as the London 
lamps do, but continu'd bright till morning, 
and an accidental stroke would generally break 
but a single pane, easily repair' d. 

I have sometimes wonder 'd that the London- 
ers did not, from the effect holes in the bottom 
119 



Benjamin Franklin 

of the globe lamps us'd at Vauxhall have in 
keeping them clean, learn to have such holes, 
in their street lamps. But, these holes being 
made for another purpose, viz., to communicate 
flame more suddenly to the wick by a little flax 
hanging down thro' them, the other use, of let- 
ting in air, seems not to have been thought of ; 
and therefore, after the lamps have been lit a 
few hours, the streets of London are very 
poorly illuminated. 

The mention of these improvements puts me 
in mind of one I propos'd, when in London, to 
Dr. Fothergill, who was among the best men I 
have known, and a great promoter of useful 
projects. I had observ'd that the streets, when 
dry, were never swept, and the light dust car- 
ried away ; but it was suffer' d to accumulate 
till wet weather reduc'd it to mud, and then, 
after lying some days so deep on the pavement 
that there was no crossing but in paths kept 
clean by poor people with brooms, it was with 
great labour rak'd together and thrown up into 
carts open above, the sides of which suffer' d 
some of the slush at every jolt on the pavement 
to shake out and fall, sometimes to the annoy- 
ance of foot-passengers. The reason given for 
not sweeping the dusty streets was, that the 
dust would fly into the windows of shops and 
houses. 

An accidental occurrence had instructed me 
how much sweeping might be done in a little 
time. I found at my door in Craven-street, one 
120 



Civic Pride 

morning, a poor woman sweeping my pave- 
ment with a birch broom ; she appeared very- 
pale and feeble, as just come out of a fit of sick- 
ness. I ask'd who employ'd her to sweep 
there ; she said : " Nobody ; but I am very 
poor and in distress, and I sweeps before gen- 
tlefolkses doors, and hopes they will give me 
something. ' ' I bid her sweep the whole street 
clean, and I would give her a shilling; this 
was at nine o'clock ; at 12 she came for the 
shilling. From the slowness I saw at first in 
her working, I could scarce believe that the 
work was done so soon, and sent my servant to 
examine it, who reported that the whole street 
was swept perfectly clean, and all the dust 
plac'd in the gutter, which was in the middle ; 
and the next rain wash'd it quite away, so that 
the pavement and even the kennel were per- 
fectly clean. 

I then judg'd that, if that feeble woman could 
sweep such a street in three hours, a strong, 
active man might have done it in half the time. 
And here let me remark the convenience of 
having but one gutter in such a narrow street, 
running down its middle, instead of two, one 
on each side, near the footway ; for where all 
the rain that falls on a street runs from the sides 
and meets in the middle, it forms there a cur- 
rent strong enough to wash away all the mud 
it meets with : but when divided into two chan- 
nels, it is often too weak to cleanse either, and 
only makes the mud it finds more fluid, so that 
121 



Benjamin Franklin 

the wheels of carriages and feet of horses throw 
and dash it upon the foot-pavement, which is 
thereby rendered foul and slippery, and some- 
times splash it upon those who are walking. 
My proposal, communicated to the good doctor, 
was as follows : 

' ' For the more effectual cleaning and keep- 
ing clean the streets of London and Westmin- 
ster, it is proposed that the several watchmen 
be contracted with to have the dust swept up 
in dry seasons, and the mud rak'd up at other 
times, each in the several streets and lanes of 
his round ; that they be furnish 'd with brooms 
and other proper instruments for these pur- 
poses, to be kept at their respective stands, 
ready to furnish the poor people they may em- 
ploy in the service. 

''That in the dry summer months the dust 
be all swept up into heaps at proper distances, 
before the shops and windows of houses are 
usually opened, when the scavengers, with 
close-covered carts, shall also carry it all away. 

" That the mud, when rak'd up, be not left 
in heaps to be spread abroad again by the 
wheels of carriages and trampling of horses, 
but that the scavengers be provided with bodies 
of carts, not plac'd high upon wheels, but low 
upon sliders, with lattice -bottoms, which, being 
cover' d with straw, will retain the mud thrown 
into them, and permit the water to drain from 
it, whereby it will become much lighter, water 
making the greatest part of its weight ; these 
122 



Civic Pride 

bodies of carts to be plac'd at convenient dis- 
tances, and the mud brought to thern in wheel- 
barrows ; they remaining where plac'd till the 
mud is drain' d, and then horses brought to 
draw them away. ' ' 

I have since had doubts of the practicability 
of the latter part of this proposal, on account of 
the narrowness of some streets, and the diffi- 
culty of placing the draining-sleds so as not to 
encumber too much the passage ; but I am still 
of opinion that the former, requiring the dust 
to be swept up and carry' d away before the 
shops are open, is very practicable in summer, 
when the days are long ; for, in walking thro' 
the Strand and Fleet-street one morning at 
seven o'clock, I observ'd there was not one shop 
open, tho' it had been daylight and the sun up 
above three hours ; the inhabitants of London 
chusing voluntarily to live much by candle- 
light, and sleep by sunshine, and yet often 
complain, a little absurdly, of the duty on can- 
dles, and the high price of tallow. 

Some may think these trifling matters not 
worth minding or relating ; but when they con- 
sider that tho' dust blown into the eyes of a 
single person, or into a single shop on a windy 
day, is but of small importance, yet the great 
number of the instances in a populous city, 
and its frequent repetitions give it weight and 
consequence, perhaps they will not censure very 
severely those who bestow some attention to 
affairs of this seemingly low nature. Human 
123 



Benjamin Franklin 

felicity is produc'd not so much by great pieces 
of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little 
advantages that occur every day. Thus, if you 
teach a poor young man to shave himself, and 
keep his razor in order, you may contribute 
more to the happiness of his life than in giving 
him a thousand guineas. The money may be 
soon spent, the regret only remaining of having 
foolishly consumed it ; but in the other case, 
he escapes the frequent vexation of waiting for 
barbers, and of their sometimes dirty fingers, 
offensive breaths, and dull razors ; he shaves 
when most convenient to him, and enjoys daily 
the pleasure of its being done with a good in- 
strument. With these sentiments I have haz- 
arded the few preceding pages, hoping they 
may afford hints which some time or other may 
be useful to a city I love, having lived many 
years in it very happily, and perhaps to some 
of our towns in America. 



124 



Philosophical Experiments. 

In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a 
Dr. Spence, who was lately arrived from Scot- 
land, and show'd me some electric experiments. 
They were imperfectly perform'd, as he was 
not very expert ; but, being on a subject quite 
new to me, they equally surpris'd and pleased 
me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia, our 
library company receiv'd from Mr. P. Collin- 
son, Fellow of the Royal Society of London, a 
present of a glass tube, with some account of 
the use of it in making such experiments. I 
eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating 
what I had seen at Boston ; and, by much prac- 
tice, acquir'd great readiness in performing 
those, also, which we had an account of from 
England, adding a number of new ones. I say 
much practice, for my house was continually 
full, for some time, with people who came to 
see these new wonders. 

To divide a little this incumbrance among 
my friends, I caused a number of similar tubes 
to be blown at our glass-house, with which they 
f urnish'd themselves, so that we had at length 
several performers. Among these, the princi- 
pal was Mr. Kinnersley, an ingenious neighbor, 



Benjamin Franklin 

who, being out of business, I encouraged to un- 
dertake showing the experiments for money, 
and drew up for him two lectures, in which the 
experiments were rang'd in such order, and ac- 
companied with such explanations in such 
method, as that the foregoing should assist in 
comprehending the following. He procur'd an 
elegant apparatus for the purpose, in which all 
the little machines that I had roughly made for 
myself were nicely form'd by instrument- 
makers. His lectures were well attended, and 
gave great satisfaction ; and after some time 
he went thro' the colonies, exhibiting them in 
every capital town, and pick'd up some money. 
In the West India islands, indeed, it was with 
difficulty the experiments could be made, from 
the general moisture of the air. 

Oblig'd as we were to Mr. Collinson for his 
present of the tube, etc., I thought it right he 
should be inform' d of our success in using it, 
and wrote him several letters containing ac- 
counts of our experiments. He got them read 
in the Royal Society, where they were not at 
first thought worth so much notice as to be 
printed in their Transactions. One paper, 
which I wrote for Mr. Kinnersley, on the same- 
ness of lightning with electricity, I sent to Dr. 
Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of 
the members also of that society, who wrote 
me word that it had been read, but was laughed 
at by the connoisseurs. The papers, however, 
being shown to Dr. Fothergill, he thought them 
126 



Philosophical Experiments 

of too much value to be stifled, and advis'd the 
printing of them. Mr. Collinson then gave 
them to Cave for publication in his Gentleman '? 
Magazine ; but he chose to print them sepa- 
rately in a pamphlet, and Dr. Fothergill wrote 
the preface. Cave, it seems, judged rightly for 
his profit, for by the additions that arrived after- 
ward, they s well'd to a quarto volume, which 
has had five editions, and cost him nothing for 
copy-money. 

It was, however, some time before those pa- 
pers were much taken notice of in England. 
A copy of them happening to fall into the hands, 
of the Count de Buff on, a philosopher deserv- 
edly of great reputation in France, and, in- 
deed, all over Europe, he prevailed with M. 
Dalibard to translate them into French, and 
they were printed at Paris. The publication 
offended the Abbe Nolle t, preceptor in Natural 
Philosophy to the royal family, and an able ex- 
perimenter, who had form'd and publish'd a 
theory of electricity, which then had the gen- 
eral vogue. He could not at first believe that 
such a work came from America, and said it 
must have been fabricated by his enemies at 
Paris, to decry his system. Afterwards, hav- 
ing been assur'd that there really existed such 
a person as Franklin at Philadelphia, which he 
had doubted, he wrote and published a volume 
of Letters, chiefly address' d to me, defending 
his theory, and denying the verity of my experi- 
ments, and of the positions deduc'd from them. 
127 



Benjamin Franklin 

I once purpos'd answering the abbe, and 
actually began the answer ; but, on considera- 
tion that my writings contain' d a description 
of experiments which any one might repeat 
and verify, and if not to be verifi'd, could not 
be defended ; or of observations offer' d as con- 
jectures, and not delivered dogmatically, there- 
fore not laying me under any obligation to de- 
fend them ; and reflecting that a dispute be- 
tween two persons, writing in different lan- 
guages, might be lengthened greatly by mis- 
translations, and thence misconceptions of one 
another's meaning, much of one of the abbe's 
letters being founded on an error in the trans- 
lation, I concluded to let my papers shift for 
themselves, believing it was better to spend 
what time I could spare from public business in 
making new experiments, than in disputing 
about those already made. I therefore never 
answered M. Nollet, and the event gave me no 
•cause to repent my silence ; for my friend M. le 
Roy, of the Royal Academy of Sciences, took 
up my cause and refuted him ; my book was 
translated into the Italian, German, and Latin 
languages ; and the doctrine it contain'd was 
by degrees universally adopted by the philoso- 
phers of Europe, in preference to that of the 
abbe ; so that he lived to see himself the last of 

his sect, except Monsieur B , of Paris, his 

el eve and immediate disciple. 

What gave my book the more sudden and 
general celebrity, was the success of one of its 
128 



Philosophical Experiments 

proposed experiments, made by Messrs. Dali- 
bard and De Lor at Marly, for drawing light- 
ning from the clouds. This engag'd the public 
attention everywhere. M. de Lor, who had an 
apparatus for experimental philosophy, and lec- 
tur'd in that branch of science, undertook to re- 
peat what he called the Philadelphia Experi- 
ments ; and, after they were performed before 
the king and court, all the curious of Paris 
flocked to see them. I will not swell this nar- 
rative with an account of that capital experi- 
ment, nor of the infinite pleasure I receiv'd in 
the success of a similar one I made soon after 
with a kite at Philadelphia, as both are to be 
found in the histories of electricity. 

Dr. Wright, an English physician, when at 
Paris, wrote to a friend, who was of the Royal 
Society, an account of the high esteem my ex- 
periments were in among the learned abroad, 
and of their wonder that my writings had been 
so little noticed in England. The society, on 
this, resum'd the consideration of the letters 
that had been read to them ; and the celebrated 
Dr. Watson drew up a summary account of 
them, and of all I had afterwards sent to Eng- 
land on the subject, which he accompanied with 
some praise of the writer. This summary was 
then printed in their transactions ; and some 
members of the society in London, particularly 
the very ingenious Mr. Canton, having verified 
the experiment of procuring lightning from the 
clouds by a pointed rod, and acquainting them 
129 



Benjamin Franklin 

with the success, they soon made me more than 
amends for the slight with which they had be- 
fore treated me. Without my having made any 
application for that honor, they chose me a 
member, and voted that I should be excus'd 
the customary payments, which would have 
amounted to twenty-five guineas ; and ever 
since have given me their Transactions gratis. 
They also presented me with the gold medal of 
Sir Godfrey Copley for the year 1753, the de- 
livery of which was accompanied by a very 
handsome speech of the president, Lord Mac- 
clesfield, wherein I was highly honoured. 



130 



Poor Richard's Almanac. 



Poor Richard's Almanac. 

[ " In 1732 I first published my Almanac, under 
the name of Richard Saunders ; it was con- 
tinued by me about twenty-five years, com- 
monly called Poor Richard's Almanac. I en- 
deavored to make it both entertaining and use- 
ful ; and it accordingly came to be in such 
demand, that I reaped considerable profit from 
it, vending annually near ten thousand. And 
observing that it was generally read, scarce 
any neighborhood in the province being with- 
out it, I considered it as a proper vehicle for 
conveying instruction among the common peo- 
ple, who bought scarcely any other books ; I 
therefore filled all the little spaces that occurred 
between the remarkable days in the calendar 
with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as in- 
culcated industry and frugality as the means of 
procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue ; 
it being more difficult for a man in want to act 
always honestly, as, to use here one of those 
proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand 
upright. 

These proverbs, which contained the wisdom 
of many ages and nations, I assembled and 
formed into a connected discourse prefixed to 
133 



Benjamin Franklin 

the Almanac of 1757, as the harangue of a 
wise old man to the people attending an auc- 
tion. The bringing all these scattered counsels 
thus into a focus enabled them to make greater 
impression. The piece, being universally ap- 
proved, was copied in all the newspapers of the 
Continent ; reprinted in Britain on a broadside, 
to be stuck up in houses ; two translations were 
made of it in French, and great numbers 
bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute 
gratis among their poor parishioners and ten- 
ants, In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged use- 
less expense in foreign superfluities, some 
thought it had its share of influence in produc- 
ing that growing plenty of money which was ob- 
servable for several years after its publication. ' '] 

Franklin's Autobiography. 

Courteous Reader. 

I have heard that nothing gives an author so 
great pleasure as to find his works respectfully 
quoted by other learned authors. This pleasure 
I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have 
been, if I may say it without vanity, an emi- 
nent author of Almanacs annually, now a full 
quarter of a century, my brother authors in the 
same way, for what reason I know not, have 
ever been very sparing in their applauses ; and 
no other author has taken the least notice of 
me : so that did not my writings produce me 
some solid Pudding, the great deficiency of 
Praise would have quite discouraged me. 
134 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

I concluded at length, that the people were 
the best judges of my merit ; for they buy my 
works : and besides, in my rambles, where I 
am not personally known, I have frequently 
heard one or other of my Adages repeated, with 
" as Poor Richard says !" at the end of it. 
This gave me some satisfaction, as it shewed, 
not only that my Instructions were regarded, 
but discovered likewise some respect for my 
Authority. And I own, that to encourage the 
practice of remembering and repeating those 
wise Sentences, I have sometimes quoted my- 
self with great gravity. 

Judge, then, how much I must have been 
gratified by an incident I am going to relate to 
you ! 

I stopped my horse lately, where a great 
number of people were collected at a Vendue 
[sale] of Merchant's goods. The hour of sale 
not being come, they were conversing on the 
badness of the Times : and one of the company 
called to a clean old man, with white locks, 
" Pray, Father Abraham ! what do you think 
of the Times? Won't these heavy taxes quite 
ruin the country ? How shall we be ever able 
to pay them ? What would you advise us to ?" 

Father Abraham stood up, and replied, " If 
you would have my advice, I will give it you, 
in short ; for a word to the wise is enough^ 
and many words won 7 fill a bushel, as Poor 
Richard says." 

They all joined, desiring him to speak his 
135 



Benjamin Franklin 

mind ; and gathering round him, he proceeded 
as follows : 

Friends, says he, and neighbours ! The taxes 
are indeed very heavy ; and if those laid 
on by the Government were the only ones we 
had to pay, we might the more easily discharge 
them : but we have many others, and much 
more grievous to some of us. We are taxed 
twice as much by our Idleness, three times as 
much by our Pride, and four times as much by 
our Folly : and from these taxes, the Commis- 
sioners cannot ease, or deliver us by allowing 
an abatement. However let us hearken to 
good advice, and something may be done for 
us. GOD helps them that help themselves, 
as Poor Richard says in his Almanac of 1733. 

It would be thought a hard Government that 
should tax its people One-tenth part of their 
Time, to be employed in its service. But Idle- 
ness taxes many of us much more ; if we reckon 
all that is spent in absolute sloth, or doing of 
nothing ; with that which is spent in idle em- 
ployments or amusements that amount to noth- 
ing. Sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolute- 
ly shortens life. Sloth, like Rust, conswnes 
faster than Labour wears ; while the used 
key is always bright, as Poor Richard says. 
But dost thou love Life f Then do not squan- 
der time ! for that's the stuff Life is made of, 
as Poor Richard says. 

How much more than is necessary do we 
spend in sleep ? forgetting that the sleeping 
136 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

fox catches no poultry ; and that there will 
be sleeping enough in the grave, as Poor 
Richard says. If Time be of all things the 
most precious, Wasting of Time must be (as 
Poor Richard says) the greatest prodigality ; 
since, as he elsewhere tells us, Lost time is 
never found again ; and what we call Time 
chough ! always proves little enough. Let 
us then up and be doing, and doing to the pur- 
pose : so, by diligence, shall we do more with 
less perplexity. Sloth makes all things diffi- 
cult, but Industry all things easy, as Poor 
Richard says : and He that riseth late, must 
trot all day ; and shall scarce overtake his 
business at night. While Laziness travels so 
slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him, as 
we read in Poor Richard ; who adds, Drive 
thy business ! Let not that drive thee ! and 

Early to bed, and early to rise, 

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 

So what signifies wishing and hoping for 
better Times ! We may make these Times bet- 
ter, if we bestir ourselves ! Industry need not 
wish ! as Poor Richard says ; and He that 
lives on Hope, will die fasting. There are 
no gains without pains. Then Help hands / 
for I have no lands ; or if I have, they are 
smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise 
observes, He that hath a Trade, hath an Es- 
tate, and He that hath a Calling, hath an 
Office of Profit and Honour : but, then, the 
137 



Benjamin Franklin 

Trade must be worked at, and the Calling well 
followed, or neither the Estate, nor the Office, 
will enable us to pay our taxes. 

If we are industrious, we shall never starve, 
for, as Poor Richard says, At the working 
man's house, Hunger looks in ; but dares not 
enter. Nor will the Bailiff, or the Constable 
enter : for Industry pays debts, while Despair 
increaseth them, says Poor Richard. 

What though you have found no treasure, 
nor has any rich relation left you a legacy, 
Diligence is the Mother of Good-luck, as Poor 
Richard says ; and God gives all things to 
Industry. Then 

Plough deep, while sluggards sleep ; 

And you shall have corn to sell and to keep, 

says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to- 
day ; for you know not, how much you may 
be hindered to-morrow : which makes Poor 
Richard say, One To-day is worth two To- 
morrows, and farther, Have you so?newhat to 
do to-7norrow ? do it to-day ! 

If you were a servant, would you not be 
ashamed that a good master should catch you 
idle ? Are you then your own Master ? Be 
ashamed to catchyourself idle ! as Poor Dick 
says. When there is so much to be done for 
yourself, your family, your country, and your 
gracious King ; be up by peep of day ! Let 
not the sun look down, and say, " Inglorious, 
here he lies!" Handle your tools, without 
138 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

mittens ! Remember that The cat in glove 
catches no mice ! as Poor Richard says. 

'Tis true there is much to be done ; and per- 
haps you are weak handed ; but stick to it 
steadily ! and you will see great effects, For 
Constant dropping wears away stones, and 
By diligence and patience, the mouse ate in 
two the cable, and little strokes fell great 
oaks ; as Poor Richard says in his Almanac, 
the year I cannot, just now, remember. 

Methinks, I hear some of you say, " Must a 
man afford himself no leisure ?" 

I will tell thee, my friend ! what Poor 
Richard says. 

Employ thy time well, if thoti meanest to gain 

leisure ! and 
Since thou art not sure of a minute, throw 

not away an hour ! 

Leisure is time for doing something useful. 
This leisure the diligent man will obtain ; but 
the lazy man never. So that, as Poor Richard 
says, A life of leisure, and a life of laziness 
are two things. Do you imagine that Sloth 
will afford you more comfort than Labour ? 
No ! for as Poor Richard says, Trouble 
springs from idleness, and grievous toil from 
needless ease. Many without labour, would 
live by their Wits only ; but they' 11 break, for 
want of Stock [i.e., Capital]. Whereas Indus- 
try gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. 
139 



Benjamin Franklin 

Fly Pleasures ! and they' 11 follow you ! The 
diligent spinner has a large shift, and 

Now I have a sheep and a cow 
Everybody bids me " Good morrow." 

All which is well said by Poor Richard. 

But with our Industry, we must likewise be 
Steady, Settled, and Careful : and oversee our 
own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust 
too much to others. For, as Poor Richard 
says, 

/ never saw an oft removed tree, 

Nor yet an oft removed family, 

That throve so well, as those that settled be. 

And again, Three Removes are as bad as a 
Fire ; and again Keep thy shop ! and thy shop 
will keep thee ! and again, If you would have 
your business done, go! if not, send! and 
again, 

He that by the plough would thrive ; 
Himself must either hold or drive. 

And again, The Eye of the master will do 
more work than both his Hands ; and again, 
Want of Care does us more damage than 
Want of Knowledge ; and again, Not to over- 
see workmen, is to leave them your purse 
open. 

Trusting too much to others' care, is the ruin 
of many. For, as the Almanac says, In the 
affairs of this world, men are saved, not by 
140 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

faith, but by the want of it. But a man's own 
care is profitable ; for, saith Poor Dick, Learn- 
ing is to the Studious, and Riches to the Care- 
ful ; as well as Power to the Bold, and Heav- 
en to the Virtuous. And further, If you 
would have a faithful servant, and one that 
you like ; serve yourself ! 

And again, he adviseth to circumspection and 
care, even in the smallest matters ; because 
sometimes, A little neglect may breed great 
mischief : adding, For want of a nail, the shoe 
was lost ; for want of a shoe, the horse was 
lost ; and for want of a horse, the rider was 
lost ; being overtaken, and slain by the enemy. 
All for want of care about a horse-shoe nail. 

So much for Industry, my friends ! and at- 
tention to one's own business ; but to these we 
must add Frugality, if we would make our in- 
dustry more certainly successful. A man may y 
if he knows not how to save as he gets, keep his 
nose, all his life, to the grindstone ; and die 
not worth a groat at last. A fat Kitchen 
makes a lean Will, as Poor Richard says, 
and 

Many estates are spent in the getting, 

Since women, for Tea, forsook spinning and 

knitting ; 
And men, for Punch, forsook hewing and 

splitting. 

If you would be healthy, says he in another 
141 



Benjamin Franklin 

Almanac, think of Saving, as well as of Get- 
ting ! The Indies have not made Spain rich ; 
because her Outgoes are greater than her In- 
comes. 

Away, then, with your expensive follies ! and 
you will not have so much cause to complain of 
hard Times, heavy taxes, and chargeable fam- 
ilies. For, as Poor Dick says, 

Women and Wine, Game and Deceit, 
Make the Wealth small, and the Wants 
great. 

And farther, What maintains one vice, would 
bring up two children. 

You may think perhaps, that, a little tea, or 
a little punch, now and then ; diet, a little 
more costly ; clothes, a little finer ; and a little 
entertainment, now and then ; can be no great 
matter. But remember what Poor Richard 
says, Many a Little makes a Mickle ; and 
farther, Beware of little expenses ! a small 
leak will sink a great ship ; and again, Who 
dainties love ; shall beggars prove ! and 
moreover, Fools make feasts, and wise men 
eat them. 

Here are you all got together at this Vendue 
of Fineries and knicknacks ! You call them 
Goods : but if you do not take care, they will 
prove Evils to some of you ! You expect they 
will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may, for 
less than they cost ; but if you have no occasion 
for them, they must be dear to you ! Remem- 
142 . 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

ber what Poor Richard says ! Buy what 
thou hast no need of, and, ere long, thou shalt 
sell thy necessaries ! And again, At a great 
pennyworth, pause a while ! He means, that 
perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and 
not real ; or the bargain , by straitening thee in 
thy business, may do thee more harm than 
good. For in another place, he says, Many 
have been ruined by buying good penny- 
worths. 

Again, Poor Richard says, 'Tis foolish, to 
lay out money in a purchase of Repentance : 
and yet this folly is practised every day at Ven- 
dues, for want of minding the Almanac. 

Wise men, as Poor Dick says, learn by 
others' harms ; Fools, scarcely by their own : 
but Felix quern faciunt aliena pericula cau- 
turn. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the 
back, has gone with a hungry belly, and half 
starved their families. Silks and satins, scar- 
let and velvets, as Poor Richard says, put 
out the kitchen fire ! These are not the neces- 
saries of life ; they can scarcely be called the 
conveniences : and yet only because they look 
pretty, how many want to have them ! The 
artificial wants of mankind thus become more 
numerous than the natural ; and as Poor Dick 
says, For one poor person, there are a hundred 
indigent. 

By these, and other extravagances, the gen- 
teel are reduced to poverty, and forced to bor- 
row of those whom they formerly despised ; 
143 



Benjamin Franklin 

but who, through Industry and Frugality, have 
maintained their standing. In which case, it 
appears plainly that A ploughman on his legs 
is higher than a gentleman on his knees, as 
Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had 
a small estate left them, which they knew not 
the getting of. They think 'tis day ! and will 
never be night I ; that a little to be spent out 
of so much ! is not worth tninding (A Child 
and a Fool, as Poor Richard says, i?nagine 
Twenty Shillings and Twenty Years can 
never be spent) : but always taking out of 
the meal tub, and never putting in, soon comes 
to the bottom. Then, as Poor Dick says, 
When the we IPs dry, they know the worth 
of water ! but this they might have known be- 
fore, if they had taken his advice. If you 
would know the value of money ; go, and try 
to borrow some ! For, he that goes a borrow- 
ing, goes a sorrowing ! and indeed, so does 
he that lends to such people, when he goes to 
get it in again ! 

Poor Dick further advises, and says 

Fond Pride of Dress is, sure, a very curse ! 
Fre Fancy you consult ; consult your purse ! 

And again, Pride is as loud a beggar as 
Want, and a great deal more saucy ! When 
you have bought one fine thing, you must buy 
ten more, that your appearance may be all of a 
piece ; but Poor Dick says, ; Tis easier to sup- 
press the First desire, than to satisfy All that 
144 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

follow it. And 'tis as truly folly, for the poor 
to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell, in or- 
der to equal the ox. 

Great Estates may venture more ; 

But little boats should keep near shore ! 

'Tis, however, a folly soon punished ! for 
Pride that dines on Vanity, sups on Contempt, 
as Poor Richard says. And in another place, 
Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with 
Poverty, and supped with Infamy. 

And, after all, of what use is this Pride of 
Appearance ? for which so much is risked, so 
much is suffered ! It cannot promote health or 
ease pain ! It makes no increase of merit in 
the person ! It creates envy ! It hastens mis- 
fortune ! 

What is a butterfly f At best 
He's but a caterpillar drest ! 
The gaudy fop's his picture just, 

as Poor Richard says. 

But what madness must it be, to run into 
debt for these superfluities ? 

We are offered, by the terms of this Vendue, 
Six Months' Credit ; and that, perhaps, has in- 
duced some of us to attend it, because we can- 
not spare the ready money, and hope now to 
be fine without it. But, ah, think what you do, 
when you run in debt ? You give to another, 
power over your liberty ! If you cannot pay 
at the time, you will be ashamed to see your 
145 



Benjamin Franklin 

creditor ! You will be in fear, when you speak 
to him ! You will make poor pitiful sneaking 
excuses ! and, by degrees, come to lose your 
veracity, and sink into base downright lying ! 
For, as Poor Richard says, The second vice 
is Lying, the first is Running into Debt : and 
again, to the same purpose, Lying rides upon 
Debt's back. Whereas a free born Englishman 
ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see, or 
speak to any man living. But Poverty often 
deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. ' Tis 
hard for an Empty Bag to stand upright ! 
as Poor Richard truly says. What would you 
think of that Prince, or the Government, who 
should issue an Edict forbidding you to dress 
like a Gentleman or Gentlewoman, on pain of 
imprisonment or servitude? Would you not 
say that ' ' You are free ! have a right to dress 
as you please ! and that such an Edict would 
be a breach of your privileges ! and such a Gov- 
ernment, tyrannical \" And yet you are about 
to put yourself under that tyranny, when you 
run in debt for such dress ! Your creditor has 
authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of 
your liberty, by confining you in gaol for life ! 
or to sell you for a servant, if you should not be 
able to pay him ! When you have got your 
bargain ; you may, perhaps, think little of pay- 
ment, but Creditors {Poor Richard tells us) 
have better memories than Debtors ; and, in 
another place, says, Creditors are a super- 
stitious sect ! great observers of set days and 
146 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

times. The day comes round, before you are 
aware ; and the demand is made, before you 
are prepared to satisfy it : or, if you bear your 
debt in mind, the term which, at first, seemed 
so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely 
short. Time will seem to have added wings to 
his heels, as well as shoulders. Those have a 
short Lent, saith Poor Richard, who owe 
money to be paid at Easter. Then since, as 
he says, The Borrower is a slave to the Lend- 
er, and the Debtor to the Creditor ; disdain 
the chain ! preserve your freedom ! and main- 
tain your independency ! Be industrious and 
free ! be frugal and free ! At present, per- 
haps, you may think yourself in thriving cir- 
cumstances ; and that you can bear a little ex- 
travagance without injury : but 

For Age and Want, save while you may ! 
No morning sun lasts a whole day, 

as Poor Richard says. 

Gain may be temporary and uncertain ; but, 
ever while you live, Expense is constant and 
certain : and 'tis easier to build two chimneys 
than to keep one in fuel, as Poor Richard 
says. So rather go to bed supperless, than 
rise in debt ! 

Get what you can ! and what you get, hold ! 
' Tis the Stone that will turn all your lead 
into gold ! 

as Poor Richard says. And when you have 
147 



Benjamin Franklin 

got the Philosopher's Stone, sure, you will no 
longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty 
of paying taxes. 

This doctrine, my friends ! is Reason and 
Wisdom ! But, after all, do not depend too 
much upon your own Industry, and Frugality, 
and Prudence ; though excellent things ! For 
they may all be blasted without the Blessing 
of Heaven : and, therefore, ask that Blessing 
humbly ! and be not uncharitable to those that 
at present seem to want it ; but comfort and 
help them ! Remember, Job suffered, and was 
afterwards prosperous. 

And now to conclude. Experience keeps a 
dear school ; but Fools will learn in no other, 
and scarce in that! for it is true, We may 
give Advice, but we ca7inot give Conduct, as 
Poor Richard says. However, remember 
this ! They tfyat won't be counselled, can't 
be helped ! as Poor Richard says : and far- 
ther, that, If you will not hear reason, she'll 
surely rap your knuckles / 

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. 
The people heard it, and approved the doc- 
trine ; and immediately practised the contrary, 
just as if it had been a common sermon ! For 
the Vendue opened, and they began to buy ex- 
travagantly ; notwithstanding all his cautions, 
and their own fear of taxes. 

I found the good man had thoroughly studied 
148 



Poor Richard's Almanac 

my Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped 
on those topics during the course of five and 
twenty years. The frequent mention he made 
of me, must have tired any one else ; but my 
vanity was wonderfully delighted with it : 
though I was conscious that not a tenth part of 
the wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to 
me ; but rather the gleanings I had made of 
the Sense of all Ages and Nations. However, 
I resolved to be the better for the Echo of it ; 
and though I had, at first, determined to buy 
stuff for a new coat, I went away resolved to 
wear my old one a little longer. Reader ! if 
thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great 
as mine. 

I am, as ever, 
Thine, to serve thee ! 

Richard Saunders. 
July 7, 1757. 



149 



Selected Essays. 



Advice to a Young Tradesman. 

To my Friend A. B. 

As you have desired it of me, I write the fol- 
lowing hints, which have been of service to me, 
and may, if observed, be so to you. 

Remember that time is money. He that can 
earn ten shillings a day by his labour, and goes 
abroad or sits idle one half of that day, though 
he spends but sixpence during his diversion or 
idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex- 
pense ; he has really spent, or, rather, thrown 
away, five shillings besides. 

Remember that credit is money. If a man 
lets his money lie in my hands after it is due, 
he gives me the interest, or so much as I can 
make of it during that time. This amounts to 
a considerable sum where a man has good and 
large credit, and makes good use of it. 

Remember that money is of the prolific, gen- 
erating nature. Money can beget money, and 
its offspring can beget more, and so on. Five 
shillings turned is six, turned again it is seven 
and threepence, and so on till it becomes a hun- 
dred pounds. The more there is of it, the more 
it produces every turning, so that the profits 
rise quicker. and quicker. He. that kills a breed- 
153 



Benjamin Franklin 

ing-sow, destroys all her offspring to the thou- 
sandth generation. He that murders a crown, 
destroys all that it might have produced, even 
scores of pounds. 

Remember that six pounds a year is but a 
groat a day. For this little sum (which may be 
daily wasted either in time or expense unper- 
ceived) a man of credit may, on his own secur- 
ity, have the constant possession and use of a 
hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly 
turned by an industrious man, produces great 
advantage. 

Remember this saying, The good paymaster 
is lord of another man' s purse. He that is 
known to pay punctually and exactly to the 
time he promises, may at any time, and on any 
occasion, raise all the money his friends can 
spare. This is sometimes of great use. After 
industry and frugality, nothing contributes 
more to the raising of a young man in the world 
than punctuality and justice in all his dealings ; 
therefore never keep borrowed money an hour 
beyond the time you promised, lest a disap- 
pointment shut up your friend's purse for ever. 

The most trifling actions that affect a man's 
credit are to be regarded. The sound of your 
hammer at five in the morning or nine at night, 
heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months 
longer ; but if he sees you at a billiard-table, 
or hears your voice at a tavern when you should 
be at work, he sends for his money the next day ; 
demands it, before he can receive it, in a lump. 
154 



Advice to a Young Tradesman 

It shows, besides, that you are mindful of 
what you owe ; it makes you appear a careful 
as well as an honest man, and that still in- 
creases your credit. 

Beware of thinking all your own that you 
possess, and of living accordingly. It is a mis- 
take that many people who have credit fall into. 
To prevent this, keep an exact account for some 
time both of your expenses and your income. 
If you take the pains at first to mention particu- 
lars, it will have this good effect : you will dis- 
cover how wonderfully small, trifling expenses 
mount up to large sums, and will discern what 
might have been, and may, for the future, be 
saved, without occasioning any great incon- 
venience. 

In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, 
is as plain as the way to market. It depends 
chiefly on two words, industry and. frugality ; 
that is, waste neither time nor money, but make 
the best use of both. Without industry and 
frugality nothing will do, and with them every- 
thing. He that gets all he can honestly, and 
saves all he gets (necessary expenses excepted), 
will certainly become rich, if that Being who 
governs the world, to whom all should look for 
a blessing on their honest endeavours, doth not, 
in his wise providence, otherwise determine. 
An Old Tradesman. 



155 



The Whistle. 



TO MADAME BRILLON. 



Passy, November 10, 1779. 

***** I am charmed with your descrip- 
tion of Paradise, and with your plan of living 
there ; and I approve much of your conclusion, 
that, in the mean time, we should draw all the 
good we can from this world. In my opinion, 
we might all draw more good from it than we 
do, and suffer less evil, if we would take care 
not to give too much for whistles. For to me 
it seems that most of the unhappy people we 
meet with are become so by neglect of that 
caution. 

You ask what I mean ? You love stories, and 
will excuse my telling one of myself. 

When I was a child of seven years old, my 
friends, on a holyday, filled my pocket with 
coppers. I went directly to a shop where they 
sold toys for children ; and, being charmed 
with the sound of a whistle that I met by the 
way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily 
offered and gave all my money for one. I then 
came home and went whistling all over the 
house, much pleased with my whistle, but dis- 
turbing all the family. My brothers, and sis- 
156 



The Whistle 

ters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I 
had made, told me I had given four times as 
much for it as it was worth ; put me in mind of 
what good things I might have bought with the 
rest of the money ; and laughed at me so much 
for my folly, that I cried with vexation ; and 
the reflection gave me more chagrin than the 
whistle gave me pleasure. 

This, however, was afterward of use to me, 
the impression continuing on my mind ; so 
that often, when I was tempted to buy some 
unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give 
too much for the whistle ; and I saved my 
money. 

As I grew up, came into the world, and ob- 
served the actions of men, I thought I met with 
many, very many, who gave too much for the 
whistle. 

When I saw one too ambitious of court fa- 
vour, sacrificing his time in attendance on 
levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and 
perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to 
myself, This man gives too much for his 
whistle. 

When I saw another fond of popularity, con- 
stantly employing himself in political bustles, 
neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them 
by that neglect, He pays, indeed, said I, too 
much for his whistle. 

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of 
comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing 
goodto others, all the esteem of his fellow-citi- 
1-57' 



Benjamin Franklin 

zens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for 
the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, 
said I, you pay too much for your whistle. 

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacri- 
ficing every laudable improvement of the mind 
or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations, 
and ruining his health in their pursuit, Mis- 
taken man, said I, you are providing pain for 
yourself instead of pleasure ; you give too 
much for your whistle. 

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine 
clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equi- 
pages, all above his fortune, for which he con- 
tracts debts and ends his days in prison, Alas ! 
say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his 
whistle. 

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl 
married to an ill-natured brute of a husband, 
What a pity, say I, that she should pay so 
much for a whistle ! 

In short, I conceive that great part of the 
miseries of mankind are brought upon them by 
the false estimates they have made of the value 
of things, and by their giving too much for 
their whistles. 

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy 
people, when I consider that, with all this wis- 
dom of which I am boasting, there are certain 
things in the world so tempting, for example, 
the apples of King John, which, happily, are 
not to be bought ; for if they were put to sale 
by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin 
158 



The Whistle 

myself in the purchase, and find that I had once 
more given too much for the whistle. 

Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever 
yours very sincerely and with unalterable affec- 
tion, 

B. Franklin. 



159 



Necessary Hints to Those that Would 
be Rich. 

Written Anno 1736. 

The use of money is all the advantage there 
is in having money. 

For six pounds a year you may have the use 
of one hundred pounds, provided you are a man 
of known prudence and honesty. 

He that spends a groat a day idly, spends 
idly above six pounds a year, which is the price 
for the use of one hundred pounds. 

He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his 
time per day, one day with another, wastes the 
privilege of using one hundred pounds each 
day. 

He that idly loses five shillings' worth of 
time, loses five shillings, and might as pru- 
dently throw five shillings into the sea. 

He that loses five shillings, not only loses that 
sum, but all the advantage that might be made 
by turning it in dealing, which, by the time 
that a young man becomes old, will amount to 
a considerable sum of money. 

Again : he that sells upon credit, asks a price 
for what he sells equivalent to the principal and 
interest of his money for the time he is to be 
160 



Necessary Hints 

kept out of it ; therefore, he that buys upon 
credit pays interest for what he buys, and he 
that pays ready money might let that money 
out to use : so that he that possesses anything 
he bought, pays interest for the use of it. 

Yet, in buying goods, it is best to pay ready 
money, because he that sells upon credit ex- 
pects to lose five per cent by bad debts ; there- 
fore he charges, on all he sells upon credit, an 
advance that shall make up that deficiency. 

Those who pay for what they buy upon cred- 
it, pay their share of this advance. 

He that pays ready money escapes, or may 
escape, that charge. 

A penny saved is twopence clear, 
A pin a day's a groat a year. 



161 



Motion for Prayers. 

Dr. Franklin's motion for Prayers in the 
Convention assembled at Philadelphia, 1787, 
to revise the then existing Articles of Con- 
federation. 

Mr. President, 

The small progress we have made after four 
or five weeks' close attendance and continual 
reasonings with each other, our different senti- 
ments on almost every question, several of the 
last producing as many Noes as Ayes, is, me- 
thinks, a melancholy proof of the imperfection 
of the human understanding. We indeed seem 
to feel our own want of political wisdom, since 
we have been running all about in search of it. 
We have gone back to ancient history for mod- 
els of government, and examine the different 
forms of those republics which, having been 
originally formed with the seeds of their own 
dissolution, now no longer exist ; and we have 
viewed modern states all round Europe, but 
find none of their constitutions suitable to our 
circumstances. 

In this situation of this Assembly, groping, 
as it were, in the dark, to find political truth, 
and scarce able to distinguish it when presented 
162 



Motion for Prayers 

to us, how has it happened, sir, that we have 
not hitherto once thought of humbly applying 
to the Father of Lights to illuminate our under- 
standings ? In the beginning of the contest 
with Britain, when we were sensible of danger, 
we had daily prayers in this room for the Divine 
protection ! Our prayers, sir, were heard ; and 
they were graciously answered. All of us who 
were engaged in the struggle must have ob- 
served frequent instances of a superintending 
Providence in our favour. To that kind Provi- 
dence we owe this happy opportunity of con- 
sulting in peace on the means of establishing 
our future national felicity. And have we now 
forgotten that powerful friend ? or do we im- 
agine we no longer need its assistance ? I have 
lived, sir, a long time ; and the longer I live, 
the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, 
That God governs in the affairs of men ! 
And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground with- 
out his notice, is it probable that an empire can 
rise without his aid ? We have been assured, 
sir, in the Sacred Writings, that "except trie 
Lord build the house, they labour in vain that 
build it." I firmly believe this ; and I also be- 
lieve, that without his concurring aid, we shall 
succeed in this political building no better than 
the building of Babel : we shall be divided by 
our little partial local interests, our projects will 
be confounded, and we ourselves shall become 
a reproach and a byword down to future ages. 
And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter, 
163 



Benjamin Franklin 

from this unfortunate instance, despair of estab- 
lishing government by human wisdom, and 
leave it to chance, war, and conquest. 

I therefore beg leave to move, 

That henceforth prayers, imploring the assist- 
ance of Heaven and its blessing on our deliber- 
ations, be held in this Assembly every morning 
before we proceed to business ; and that one or 
more of the clergy of this city be requested to 
officiate in that service. 

[Note by Dr. Franklin.] — " The Convention, 
except three or four persons^ thought prayers 
unnecessary ! /" 



164 



Letters. 



To Dr. Priestley. 

London, September 19, 1772. 
Dear Sir, 

In the affair of so much importance to you, 
wherein you ask my advice, I cannot, for want 
of sufficient premises, counsel you what to de- 
termine ; but, if you please, I will tell you how. 
When those difficult cases occur, they are diffi- 
cult chiefly because, while we have them under 
consideration, all the reasons, pro and con, are 
not present to the mind at the same time ; but 
sometimes one set present themselves, and at 
other times another, the first being out of sight. 
Hence the various purposes or inclinations that 
alternately prevail, and the uncertainty that 
perplexes us. To get over this, my way is, to 
divide half a sheet of paper by a line into two 
columns, writing over the one pro and over the 
other con : then, during three or four days' con- 
sideration, I put down under the different heads 
short hints of the different motives that at dif- 
ferent times occur to me for or against the 
measure. When I have thus got them all to- 
gether in one view, I endeavour to estimate 
their respective weights, and where I find two 
(one on each side), that seem equal, I strike 
167 



Benjamin Franklin 

them both out. If I find a reason pro equal to 
some two reasons con I strike out the three. 
If I judge some two reasons con equal to some 
three reasons pro, I strike out the five ; and, 
thus proceeding, I find at length where the bal- 
ance lies ; and if , after a day or two of farther 
consideration, nothing new that is of impor- 
. tance occurs on either side, I come to a deter- 
mination accordingly. And though the weight 
of reasons cannot be taken with the precision 
of algebraic quantities, yet, when each is thus 
considered separately and comparatively, and 
the whole lies before me, I think I can judge 
better, and am less liable to make a rash step ; 
and, in fact, I have found great advantage from 
this kind of equation, in what may be called 
moral or prudential algebra. 

Wishing sincerely that you may determine 
for the best, I am ever, my dear friend, yours 

most affectionately, 

B. Franklin. 



168 



Mr. Strahan. 

Philadelphia, July 5, 1775. 

You are a member of Parliament, and one 
of that majority which has doomed my country 
to destruction. You have begun to burn our 
towns and murder our people. Look upon your 
hands ! they are stained with the blood of your 
relations ! You and I were long friends : you 
are now my enemy and— I am yours, 

B. Franklin. 



169 



To General Washington. 

Passy, March 5, 1780. 
Sir, 

I received but lately the letter your excel- 
lency did me the honour of writing to me in 
recommendation of the Marquis de Lafayette. 
His modesty detained it long in his own hands. 
We became acquainted, however, from the time 
of his arrival at Paris ; and his zeal for the hon- 
our of our country, his activity in our affairs 
here, and his firm attachment to our cause and 
to you, impressed me with the same regard and 
esteem for him that your excellency's letter 
would have done had it been immediately de- 
livered to me. 

Should peace arrive after another campaign 
or two, and afford us a little leisure, I should 
be happy to see your excellency in Europe, and 
to accompany you, if my age and strength 
would permit, in visiting some of its most an- 
cient and famous kingdoms. You would, on 
this side the sea, enjoy the great reputation you 
have acquired, pure and free from those little 
shades that the jealousy and envy of a man's 
countrymen and contemporaries are ever en- 
deavouring to cast over living merit. Here you 
170 



To General Washington 

would know and enjoy what posterity will say 
of Washington. For a thousand leagues have 
nearly the same effect with a thousand years. 
The feeble voice of those grovelling passions 
cannot extend so far either in time or distance. 
At present I enjoy that pleasure for you, as I 
frequently hear the old generals of this martial 
country (who study the maps of America, and 
mark upon them all your operations) speak with 
sincere approbation and great applause of your 
conduct, and join in giving you the character 
of one of the greatest captains of the age. 

I must soon quit the scene, but you may 
live to see our country flourish^ as it will amaz- 
ingly and rapidly after the war is over. Like 
a field of young Indian corn, which long fair 
weather and sunshine had enfeebled and dis- 
coloured, and which in that weak state, by a 
thunder-gust of violent wind, hail, and rain, 
seemed to be threatened with absolute destruc- 
tion ; yet the storm being past, it recovers fresh 
verdure, shoots up with double vigour, and de- 
lights the eye not of its owner only, but of every 
observing traveller. 

The best wishes that can be formed for 
your health, honour, and happiness, ever attend 
you, from yours, &c, 

B. Franklin. 



To Dr. Mather, Boston. 

Passy, May 12, 1784. 
Rev. Sir, 

I received your kind letter with your excel- 
lent advice to the people of the United States, 
which I read with great pleasure, and hope it 
will be duly regarded. Such writings, though 
they may be lightly passed over by many read- 
ers, yet if they make a deep impression on one 
active mind in a hundred, the effects may be 
considerable. Permit me to mention one little 
instance, which, though it relates to myself, 
will not be quite uninteresting to you. When 
I was a boy I met with a book entitled Essays 
to do Good, which I think was written by your 
father. It had been so little regarded by a for- 
mer possessor, that several leaves of it were 
torn out : but the remainder gave me such a 
turn of thinking as to have an influence on my 
conduct through life ; for I have always set a 
greater value on the character of a doer of 
good, than on any other kind of reputation ; 
and if 1 have been, as you seem to think, a use- 
ful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it 
to that book. You mention your being in your 
78th year : I am in my 79th ; we are grown old 
172 



To Dr. Mather, Boston 

together. It is now more than sixty years since 
I left Boston, but I remember well both your 
father and grandfather, having heard them 
both in the pulpit, and seen them in their 
houses. The last time I saw your father was 
in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him 
after my first trip to Pennsylvania. He re- 
ceived me in his library, and on my taking leave 
showed me a shorter way out of the house 
through a narrow passage, which crossed by a 
beam over head. We were still talking as I 
withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I 
turning partly towards him, when he said 
hastily, Stoop, stoop ! I did not understand 
him till I felt my head hit against the beam. 
He was a man that never missed any occasion 
of giving instruction, and upon this he said to 
me, You are young, and have the world be- 
fore you ; stoop as you go through it, and 
you will miss many hard thumps. This ad- 
vice, thus beat into my head, has frequently 
been of use to me ; and I often think of it when 
I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought 
upon people by their carrying their heads too 
high. 

I long much to see again my native place, 
and to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723 ; 
I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763. In 
1773 I was in England ; in 1775 I had a sight 
of.it, but could not enter, it being in possession 
of the enemy. I did hope to have been there 
in 1783, but could not obtain my dismission 
173 



Benjamin Franklin 

from this employment here ; and now I fear I 
shall never have that happiness. My best 
wishes, however, attend my dear country. 
Esto perpetua. It is now blessed with an excel- 
lent constitution ; may it last for ever ! * * * 
With great and sincere esteem, I have the 
honour to be, &c, B. Franklin. 



174 



To the Bishop of St. Asaph's. 

Philadelphia, Feb. 24, 1786. 
Dear Friend, 

I received lately your kind letter of Novem- 
ber 27. My reception here was, as you have 
heard, very honourable indeed ; but I was be- 
trayed by it, and by some remains of ambition, 
from which I had imagined myself free, to ac- 
cept of the chair of government for the State of 
Pennsylvania, when the proper thing for me 
was repose and a private life. I hope, however, 
to be able to bear the fatigue for one year, and 
then retire. 

I have much regretted our having so little 
opportunity for conversation when we last met,* 
You could have given me informations and 
counsels that I wanted, but we were scarce a 
minute together without being broken in upon. 
I am to thank you, however, for the pleasure I 
had, after our parting, in reading the new bookf 
you gave me, which I think generally well writ- 
ten and likely to do good : though the reading 
time of most people is of late so taken up with 
newspapers and little periodical pamphlets, that 

* At Southampton, previous to Dr. Franklin's em- 
barking for the United States, 
t Paley's Moral Philosophy. 

175 



Benjamin Franklin 

few nowadays venture to attempt reading a 
quarto volume. I have admired to see that in 
the last century a folio, Burton on Melancholy \ 
went through six editions in about forty years. 
We have, I believe, more readers now, but not 
of such large books. 

You seem desirous of knowing what prog- 
ress we make here in improving our govern- 
ments. We are, I think, in the right road of 
improvement, for we are making experiments. 
I do not oppose all that seem wrong, for the 
multitude are more effectually set right by ex- 
perience, than kept from going wrong by rea- 
soning with them. And I think we are daily 
more and more enlightened ; so that I have no 
doubt of our obtaining, in a few years, as much 
public felicity as good government is capable 
of affording. * * * * 

As to my domestic circumstances, of which 
you kindly desire to hear something, they are 
at present as happy as I could wish them. I 
am surrounded by my offspring, a dutiful and 
affectionate daughter in my house, with six 
grandchildren, the eldest of which you have 
seen, who is now at college in the next street, 
finishing the learned part of his education ; the 
others promising both for parts and good dispo- 
sitions. What their conduct may be when they 
grow up and enter the important scenes of life, 
I shall not live to see, and I cannot foresee. I 
therefore enjoy among them the present hour, 
and leave the future to Providence. 
176 



To the Bishop of St. Asaph's 

He that raises a large family does, indeed, 
while he lives to observe them, stand, as Watts 
says, a broader mark for sorrow ; but then 
he stands a broader mark for pleasure too. 
When we launch our little fleet of barks into 
the ocean, bound to different ports, we hope 
for each a prosperous voyage ; but contrary 
winds, hidden shoals, storms, and enemies, 
come in for a share in the disposition of events ; 
and though these occasion a mixture of disap- 
pointment, yet, considering the risk where we 
can make no ensurance, we should think our- 
selves happy if some return with success. My 
son's son (Temple Franklin), whom you have 
also seen, having had a fine farm of 600 acres 
conveyed to him by his father when we were 
at Southampton, has dropped for the present 
his views of acting in the political line, and ap- 
plies himself ardently to the study and practice 
of agriculture. This is much more agreeable 
to me, who esteem it the most useful, the most 
independent, and, therefore, the noblest of em- 
ployments. His lands are on navigable water, 
communicating with the Delaware, and but 
about 16 miles from this city. He has associ- 
ated to himself a very skilful English farmer, 
lately arrived here, who is to instruct him in 
the business and partakes for a term of the 
profits ; so that there is a great apparent proba- 
bility of their success. You will kindly expect 
a word or two about myself. My health and 
spirits continue, thanks to God, as when you 
177 



Benjamin Franklin 

saw me. The only complaint I then had does 
not grow worse, and is tolerable. I still have 
enjoyment in the company of my friends ; and, 
being easy in my circumstances, have many 
reasons to like living. But the course of nature 
must soon put a period to my present mode of 
existence. This I shall submit to with less re- 
gret, as having seen, during a long life, a good 
deal of this world, I feel a growing curiosity to 
be acquainted with some other ; and can cheer- 
fully, with filial confidence, resign my spirit to 
the conduct of that great and good Parent of 
mankind who created it, and who has so gra- 
ciously protected and prospered me from my 
birth to the present hour. Wherever I am, I 
always hope to retain the pleasing remem- 
brance of your friendship ; being, with sincere 
and great esteem, my dear friend, yours most 
affectionately, B. Franklin. 

We all join in respects to Mrs. Shipley. 



178 



